


Whitecaps

by x_carnivale_x (commodorecliche)



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Detectives, Blood and Injury, Eldritch Abomination, Gen, Ghouls, Horror, M/M, Mild Gore, Murder Mystery, Mysterious Death, Mystery, Ocean, Protectiveness, Saving Each Other, Scary, Sea Ghouls, Sea Monsters, Strangers to Lovers, Thriller, and feeling some odd and persistent connection, eldritch horror, even through the chaos around them, homicide investigation, there's no sex or anything in this i'm sorry, this is really just z and c getting to know each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-30
Updated: 2015-11-30
Packaged: 2018-05-04 02:09:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 35,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5316320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/commodorecliche/pseuds/x_carnivale_x
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zachary Quinto is a homicide detective living in the entirely not-picturesque, but otherwise quiet, coastal town of Lithica. When he gets wind of a string of seemingly unrelated deaths occurring along an abandoned, rocky stretch of coastline, he figures this will be like every other investigation. But after five deaths in the span of a single month, and no leads, suspects, or links except for the things that have been taken from the victims, Zach and his partner, Karl, have hit a dead end. But an odd encounter with reclusive local author, Chris Pine, leaves Zach wondering if there might be more to these deaths, and more to Chris Pine, than he originally expected. </p><p>And he certainly hadn’t meant to get attached to him along the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 01.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2015 Pinto Big Bang! 
> 
> I want to thank my incredible artist, [nostalgia-in-starlight](http://nostalgia-in-starlight.tumblr.com), for the wonderful artwork! You can find the artwork at the start of the fic, and can also view it at the [original post](http://nostalgia-in-starlight.tumblr.com/post/134221789261/pinto-big-bang-submission-art-for) ! They did two wonderful pieces of the setting and of Detective!Zach, be sure you go check them out! 
> 
> Enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 01

_“Blue, green, grey, white, or black; smooth, ruffled, or mountainous; that ocean is not silent.” - HP Lovecraft_

**::**

** **

****

art by nostalgia-in-starlight

**::**

“Got a fresh one for you, Z.”

Zach startles harshly at the jarring sound of files dropping onto his desk. Tearing his eyes from his computer screen, he eyes the manila folder skeptically before darting his gaze up to Karl’s face.

“Fresh _what_ , exactly?”

“They found another one out at Lithica Bay.” Karl states plainly, as if this were no more unusual than finding a pebble in one’s shoe.

“Seriously?” Zach asks, glancing at the time on his computer. Just barely past 8 am. This isn’t exactly his idea of an ideal Monday morning. Zach sighs - drawn out and knowing - and slides the folder across his desk, opening it up.

“Fourth one in a month...” He mumbles, more to himself than to Karl as he flips through the pages of forensic notes and photographs. He squints at one picture, scanning the image of the pale grey, half-clothed body like he might scan the morning crossword. “Anything noteworthy about this one?”

Karl scoffs a little.

“Being dead as a doornail ain’t noteworthy enough for ya?”

Zach sighs, interrupting  Karl with a cold stare.

“Nothing’s missing from her, if that’s what you mean.”

“Nothing?” Zach inquires again, flipping once more to the photographs tucked away inside the folder.

Karl shakes his head.

“Just her pulse.”

"Any markings on her?"

"Not that I saw, and John didn’t note anything odd either. But Zoe hasn't seen her yet either, so..."

With a small huff, Zach drops the folder back onto his desk and moves to stand.

“Alright, you coming on this one?”

“May as well.”

Zach nods, snatching his coat from off the wall and brushing past Karl without another word.

**::**

The drive to Lithica Bay is always an empty one. Not to say that it isn't beautiful. Honestly, in Zach's opinion, you'd be hard-pressed to find somewhere as visually appealing as the general area around the bay. But Zach doesn't pretend to not understand why no one ever lives out here, why no one ever visits.

It's never anything concrete. And honestly, if you asked him to point out exactly why this area remained empty, he isn't entirely sure he could lay it out in words.

But that knowing _feeling_ is there. And it's always been there.

Right on the waterfront, Lithica is less "oceanfront paradise" and more "ominous jagged wasteland", which isn’t something Zach would recommend putting down in the tourist guidebooks. Barred off by a darkened fortress wall of evergreens and pines, the coast is mostly rocks, with patches and paths of sand interspersed across the landscape. The waves exist only as whitecaps and darkness - never calm, rarely blue, and certainly never welcoming. The beach itself seems to always be cased in a thin layer of fog. It's a mist that never clears or lifts, though Zach is sure that _sometimes_ , at least _sometimes_ , the haze has to lighten up... even just a little. And yet, every time he goes, that haze is still there - a thin veil shrouded across the landscape to hide whatever it is here that doesn't want to be seen.

Needless to say, it isn't much of a hotspot for real estate development or local tourism.

But still... it always did have a certain beauty about it that Zach enjoyed. And apparently, a few lone individuals appear to have enjoyed it too.

Unfortunately for them, Lithica Bay wasn't as welcoming, leaving them as nothing more than meaningless stiffs littered across the sands like dolls the land forgot.

It isn't how Zach would want to go.

He and Karl follow the roads that wind through the forests towards the coast. When they pull up, they park as close as they can to the actual beach and hop out without a word passed between them. Zach doesn't know how to feel now about the greyish veil that's encased the beach. On the one hand, it's almost welcoming to see that despite the mayhem that has been happening here over the last few weeks, at least some things about this place never change. On the other hand, the grey is nothing more than a reminder of the bleak nothingness this coast has to offer.

Striding across the sand and rocks, Zach muses quietly to himself that he should’ve brought different shoes. Despite the fact that Zach is a man who enjoys his luxuries, he tries to not let himself indulge too frequently. He really only has one pair of nice shoes - the pair he just so happens to be wearing on this fine, dismal morning. He hadn’t exactly been expecting to have to drag his ass all the way out here for another stiff, so he hadn’t even thought to wear something a little less… refined.

But oh well. He supposes it’s just part of the job. He can get new shoes. The poor dead girl they’d found here… well, she isn’t getting much of anything new. So he tries not to complain.  

As they approach, Zach isn’t too surprised to see that there isn’t much the beach has to offer. With the body already gone, all that’s left are the indentations in the sand that the foaming surf is threatening to claim. He notes quickly that there are no traces of blood along the sand or rocks, and only a couple of personal effects that forensics are busy collecting and processing. Karl wastes no time moving closer to the waterfront to the spot where the body was found.

Zach watches as he crouches down beside their chief forensics analyst, John, pointing around the indentations in the sand, asking questions that Zach can’t quite hear. A brief gust catches his hair and sends a shiver over his body. He tightens his coat around himself, thankful he at least thought to wear the damn thing, before striding down to the water’s edge in an attempt to join in on his colleague’s conversation.

“-hard to tell, cause who knows with the tide coming in and out, but I don’t think it’s been disturbed yet.” Zach hears John say, and he watches as John cranes his head and glances over his shoulder at the still-encroaching tide.

“When did you find her?” Zach asks, butting in without hesitation. He stuffs his hands into the deep pockets of his coat.

“Around 6:30 this morning.” John replies.

“And when do you think she kicked it?” Karl chimes in.

“Phrasing.” Zach chastises, but Karl pays him no mind. John shakes his head.

“Couldn’t have been more than a couple hours before we found her…”

Zach glances at his watch; it’s just on the cusp of 9 am. High tide is starting to build, quickly threatening to lick at their feet.

“Barely 9 now… Means the tides haven’t come in since she died.” Zach muses, turning away to glance along the coastline into the distance.

Karl lifts an eyebrow.

“Meaning?”

“No blood on the sand, no hair, no DNA, no nothing? The tides didn’t have the chance wash it away yet. So either our killer is very skilled at the almost impossible task of cleaning _sand_ without disturbing it, or there was nothing around her to begin with.”

John sighs and nods, eyes slowly lowering back to the indentation in the sands to stare at them curiously. Karl simply groans and lifts his body up to stand.

“Ugh, I’m already so tired of this bullshit.” He complains and Zach nods in silent agreement.

“We got photos of this, right, John?”

Zach gestures loosely towards the depression in the sand and then towards the waves inching their way forward hungrily. John turns to glance behind them and stands quickly, stepping away as the tide begins to lick at his feet. But he nods anyway.

“We got some. Can’t hurt to have a few more though.” He muses, calling over one of his colleagues to snap a few extras shots of the indentations in the sand where a corpse had once lain.

With a cock of his head, Zach gestures for him and Karl to retreat towards their car.

“Let’s go see Zoe.” He mumbles, and Karl simply nods as they hike their way back up along the rocks and sand to where they parked.

Zach lets Karl drive, wordlessly making his way to the passenger’s side of the car. But he can’t help the way his eyes persistently scan the fogged, grey coastline, attempting to take in whatever nothingness might be there. It’s only once he’s slipping into the passenger seat that something in the distance catches his eye.

He can’t be sure, but it looks almost like a building. Far along the beach, shrouded in dreariness and grey, but a structure none the less. But he can’t seem to focus on it - his eyes blurring a little bit as he tries to stare through the fog at whatever it is that stands there.

If he were a gambling man, he’d wager it was a house. But he isn’t a gambling man, and honestly, he isn’t all that sure.

It’s only the sound of Karl’s voice that draws him back to the present.

“What is it?” Karl asks innocently enough, and Zach’s attention snaps immediately from this random distant structure back to his companion. Karl waits patiently for a response, already sitting in the driver’s seat as Zach lingers at the passenger entrance.

He glances back down the beach, but notes quickly that he can’t see quite as well as he could a moment before. And so he shakes his head and shrugs, quietly muttering his response.

“...Nothing. Let’s go.”

He drops down into the car and shuts the door, Karl already shifting gears to turn them around and place them on the road towards the coroner’s office.

**::**

Ask anyone and they’ll tell you that coroner’s offices are supposed to be bleak and dreary spaces. And sure, maybe once you get inside they are, but Zach promises, on the outside they’re totally normal buildings. Frankly, if he had to describe it, he might even go so far as to describe the exterior of the town’s morgue as… lovely. It’s an older building, but classically built to mirror the rest of the downtown architecture, and honestly Zach always thought it gave their little town a good bit of character.

Tourists don’t really need to know that it’s a morgue, but he wouldn’t lie to them if they ever asked.

Karl and Zach park without much of a word passed between them, the two of them quietly mulling over disconnected thoughts about their current case as they exit the car and head into the building. A quick flash of their badges is all it takes for security to wave them by. A couple of the guards even give them a familiar nod as they pass and head towards the back offices in hopes of finding Zoe.

The receptionist at the desk gives them a friendly smile of recognition as they approach and she quickly points them down the hall past Zoe’s office to the examination room. The two of them approach the room, but neither enter, if only because they do have _some_ respect for forensic sterility, thank you very much. Instead, Zach peeks into the small window on the door. Zoe’s inside the exam room, decked out in a surgical gown, mask, hat, and blood-covered gloves, hunched over a corpse, fingers probing along the inside of the abdomen. And frankly, that’s quite enough for Zach.

It isn’t that he has a squeamish stomach – if he did, he wouldn’t have gotten into this business at all – but there’s just something about people touching and fondling guts and innards that sends a little chill down his spine.  

Stepping back from the window, he opts instead to simply knock on the door, stopping Karl when the other man cranes his head up to peek into the room, as well.

“If you value the donut you had for breakfast, don’t look in there.” Zach warns, hand on Karl’s shoulder.

“…Duly noted.”

Zach knocks again and it seems to garner her attention, and within a few moments, Zoe’s exiting through the side door, gloves and gown already discarded.

“Zach. Karl.” She sighs, yanking the mask off her face, “Just the men I was hoping to see.”

“You’re always so happy when a fresh one comes through.” Karl snarks.

“Hmph, it keeps me in business. Anyway, you’re here for the jogger.”

Zoe cocks her head towards another exam room, leading them down the hall towards it.

“That what she was? A jogger?”

“She came in with athletic garb on and all signs pointed to moderate physical exertion a little bit before she died. I just assumed jogging. The hell else would someone be doing out there anyway?” Zoe muses, more to herself than to either of them.

She points at the shelf on the wall beside the entrance to the exam room where a couple boxes of hats and paper body covers reside.

“You know the drill: hats and bunny suits, chop chop.” Zoe instructs with a smirk. Zach and Karl both sign dramatically, but waste no time obeying her orders and following her into the examination room.

It all seems very routine at this point: Zoe checks the toe tag, and rolls down the sheet to reveal the blanched face of a young woman. And despite the fact that at this point, he should be used to it, Zach never was a big fan of the sheet first getting pulled down. In fact, he’s never liked the first look at a dead face. Despite the circumstances, that sheet rolling down, or that first arrival at the crime scene, it’s always a grim reminder that what he’s about to see had been human once, that it had lived a life, that it had mattered to someone.

Probably never helps that typically the dead faces he sees are on those who died earlier than they should have. Gunshot wounds. Stabbings. Strangulations.

Maybe homicide wasn’t the best choice for him. But what’s done is done, and all that matters now is that he help in whatever ways he can.

Zach grimaces a little as he first sets eyes on today’s victim. She’s a young woman: much too young to be lying on a coroner’s table, that much Zach knows. But otherwise, she looks like every other stiff who crossed this table before her. Pale, cold, and empty.

“Okay, so externally, everything seems fine.” Zoe starts, hands gesturing loosely over the length of the body. “No signs of outward trauma, no bruising, no cuts, no real external physical damage. Fingernails clean except for a little sand, which isn’t too surprising since it looks like she fell face first onto the beach. The only thing we really saw was a bit of redness around the mouth, but no worse than what a bit of sea air will do to you, you know? So we moved on to the internal analysis. I’m thinking maybe a heart condition or something.”

“What’d you find?” Zach asks.

“Heart’s fine. Or well, it was whenever it stopped beating. No disease, no trauma, no stressors. Same for the majority of the other systems.” Zoe pauses for a moment, glancing away from Zach and Karl as she clears her throat. “Her lungs were a different story.”

“Her lungs?”

“Yeah. The left lung was completely filled with seawater.”

“Like she drowned? How is that possible? She didn’t wash up on the beached, she died on dry land. And John didn’t mention anything about water in the mouth.” Zach protests, glancing over at Karl for whatever information he might have to contribute.

“Because there wasn’t any water in her mouth. The water in her lung was… stagnant. I don’t even know if that makes sense, it’s goddamn mystery to me.”

“What about the right lung?” Karl asks briskly, eyes focused on the body on the table.

“Gone.”

“Karl, we need to talk to John again, see if he – I’m sorry, did you say _gone_?”

“There was no right lung.” Zoe breathes slowly.

“You’re gunna need to give me a little more than that, Zo…” Zach scoffs.

“When we opened her up, she did not have bilateral lungs.” Zoe steps away and pulled on a fresh gown and pair of gloves, gesturing towards the sheet. “May I?” She asks, as if wondering if revealing the body to Zach needed permission.

Zach nods nonetheless.

Zoe peels back the sheet to reveal the corpse’s opened chest cavity. Karl flinches a little, but Zach’s face stays placid; no matter how much he dislikes seeing shit like this, he knows he needs to remain as aloof as possible. He’s done it for ten years, he can damn well do it now.

The lack of the right lung is immediately apparent though, and Zach can’t help but furrow his brow and lean in a bit as Zoe points at the gnarled flesh of what had once been a bronchial branch of the trachea.

“See, look: the flesh and the cartilage of the right bronchus is lacerated and torn, almost as if it… as if the lung were ripped right off. And yet…”

“And yet there’s no way someone could’ve torn a lung out without some sort of outward trauma.” Zach finishes for her.

“Right…” Zoe sighs. “I’d like to… I’d like to get a look at the inner walls of the trachea, too… See if there’s any damage.”

“Why?” Karl asks, brow furrowing a bit.

“I mean… Like I said, we saw a bit of irritation around her mouth.”

“You cannot possibly be suggesting someone pulled it through her –”

Zoe holds her hands up defensively.

“Look, yanking a lung out through the trachea isn’t exactly possible. But neither is a lung just going missing, or someone yanking it out without any external damage. So I’m willing to go a _little_ outside the box on this one. Unless you’ve got a better idea?”

Karl sighs and waves her off, turning to Zach to see what he thinks.

“I’ve got nothin’…” Zach muses softly. “Zo, did we get any info on this girl? Who is she?”

Zoe nods softly.

“Yeah, we did. The local PD is handling the family…”

“She from here?” Zach asks curiously.

“No, well. Kind of. She lives about 30 minutes north of town.”

Zach nods wordlessly and turns away from the corpse.

“Let me know if you find anything else, Zoe.”

“You know I will.”

**::**

Zach isn’t sure how many more times he can flip through these files. He’s clearly not garnering any new information from them, and yet he persists; skimming over them as if the sentences he’s read a hundred times might tell him something fresh. But there’s nothing. Even the links between the deaths make no sense to him. But his brain is struggling at this point to find even the most threadbare connection.

There’s been no rhyme or reason to the timing of the deaths - occurring within days or weeks of each other. Some are in the middle of the night - others just before dawn. The only consistent thing seems to be that they occur in the dark. The bodies had all been found on different stretches of the beach, and even the causes of death have all been different. A heart attack, asthma attack, drowning on dry fucking land; Zach is starting to wonder if this is even a case that _homicide_ should be involved with…

So far, the only connections he can see between them are the bodies’ missing parts. .

The first one they had found was only missing a few fingers. Grotesque, but not unheard of when it comes to crime. Perhaps worse, the second body had been found without its eyes - the person it had once been now nothing more than a corpse with empty, bloodied eyeholes.

It was sick. It was all so very sick, but Zach has heard of worse from the darkest corners of this country’s larger cities, so maybe it isn’t all that abnormal. Hell, maybe he should be flattered that their quaint little town was getting this kind of activity.

At that thought, Zach shakes his head, leaning back in his chair. He rubs his temples, quickly feeling shame for even thinking such a morbid thought.. Their town deserved better than this. Cracking his neck, he leans forward once more, elbows resting on the hardwood of his desk, finger idly toying with the pages of his files. The next page is full of pictures and notes about the third victim.

They’d found the third stiff less than two weeks ago. His body had been found by the coastal patrol around sunset, lying right at the edge of the surf like all the others had been. His body was more or less unscathed, with exception of a few bruises on the arms and legs. But the face was another story. His teeth and tongue had been brutally snatched from his face. The face had been mangled and bloodied, mouth ripped open far beyond where it should have been.  

No scrap of tooth or flesh had been left inside his mouth - even the wisdom teeth had been dug out from the gums.

Zoe had later confirmed that he’d probably died from the blood loss.

And this one… This latest one was no better. No obvious cause of death except for water in the lungs - no sign of distress, no external damage, and a missing goddamn lung.

None of it makes sense.

Zach sighs, pushing the files away from him a bit across his desk. He leans back once again in his chair and closes his eyes. He tries just to think.

Death by blood loss can still be murder - in the case of the third victim and his ripped out tongue, you’d be hard pressed to find anyone in the town who wouldn’t call it murder. But heart attacks? Asthma attacks? Water in the lungs? Who the hell could even call that murder?

And yet, here he sits, Homicide Detective Zachary Quinto, investigating these goddamn deaths and calling them murder.

Zach groans softly, closing the files and pushing them to the side. With a yawn, he rubs his eyes. It’s getting late; maybe he’s done enough for one day. The dead aren’t getting any deader, and the living who are still waiting for answers can probably wait, at least for a night.

He’s just about resolved himself to leave, standing up out of his chair and reaching for his coat when the phone rings. He huffs briefly and closes his eyes, reaching down and snatching up the receiver. He tries not to answer too brusquely but he can’t really help the tired snippiness in his tone.

“Quinto speaking, what do you need?”

“Zach?” A female voice questions. Zach recognizes it instantly.

“Zoe?” He asks back, glancing at the clock. It’s almost 11 pm by now, what on earth is she still doing up? “Are you still down at the morgue?”

“Yeah… with that girl from earlier. Been working on her for a few hours now,” Zoe states, answering Zach’s unasked question, “and, well…”

“Well what?”

“Listen, Zach, I don’t know how, okay? I don’t know fucking how, Zach, but I really do think the lung was removed orally.”

“You have got to be kidding, Zo...”

“No… The redness on the outside of her mouth? They’re microlesions from the skin stretching. The inside of her mouth is a mess too. The cheeks, the tongue, it’s all cut up. And her trachea… the inner walls are maimed and scored, like something sharp and jagged dragged along the inside.”

“Zoe… I… That’s, that’s not possible…” Zach mumbles, settling himself back down into his chair slowly. He rests his elbows on his desk, the fingers of one hand rubbing firmly at his brow while the other hand cradles the phone to his ear.

“I know. I know it isn’t… But I don’t have any other ideas here…”

Zach doesn’t respond for a moment, staring emptily across his poorly illuminated office, eyes unfocused on the shadows.  

“Zach?” Zoe prods at his silence.

“Yeah, I’m here.” He heaves a hefty breath, “Okay… I’ll see what more I can dig up. Call me or Karl if you find _anything_ else, okay?”

“I will.”

And with that, the conversation is over. Zach places the receiver gently back onto its cradle and sits motionless for a few more moments. He lets his eyes rest on the pile of files he had just shoved aside, before glancing at the door of his office briefly. He should go home, and he knows that. He isn’t getting anything else accomplished by simply sitting here and mulling over Zoe’s words in the height of his exhaustion. And yet, he doesn’t feel like he can simply leave this be.

Zach bites his lip and nods - if only to himself - resolving himself to only stay for a little bit longer. He at least wants to look once more at the photos forensics had taken of the scene on Lithica’s beach. He isn’t entirely sure what he expect to garner from them, but with the weight of Zoe’s new information settling onto his shoulders, he can’t exactly just forget about it.

He flips the files open once more and begins to scan them for what seems like the millionth time that night.

There has to be something. There has to be something he’s missed.

**::**

When Zach awakes, it’s only at the loud noise of his office door slamming open. His head jerks up from his desk at the sound, the papers that rested beneath his head shuffling at the sudden motions.

His eyes are blurry and tired from what little sleep he got, but he can just barely make out Karl’s figure standing in the entranceway of his office. Zach groans lowly, rubbing at his temples as he waves at his colleague.

“Did you freaking sleep here?” Karl asks briskly.

“Shit. Not intentionally,” Zach croaks sharply in response.

“What were you doing?”

Zach shrugs, gesturing noncommittally at the papers that litter his desk.

“Just trying to figure this shit out.”

He lowers his head down into his hands, pressing his palms deep into the tired hollows of his eyes, as Karl continues to speak to him.

“So? Come up with anything, Nancy Drew?”

He nods, breathing in slowly through his nose and allowing himself to refocus his gaze on his colleague.

“Yeah. Well. No. Zoe called me last night though.”

“And?”

“And… she seems to think the lung was pulled out through the mouth.” Zach huffs the words out heavily, as if he hardly believes them himself, and yet he has no better theories or explanations as to what could have happened to that girl. He leaves Karl to soak his words up instead - neither offering more guidance or playing it down.

Karl just stares at him in disbelief.

“How is that even possible?” He questions, and Zach just shakes his head.

“You’re guess is as good as mine.”

“Goddamn…” Karl pauses for a moment, watching as Zach rubs his temple tiredly. With a sigh, he speaks again. “Well… I hate to bring you more good news, but... they found another.”

That gets Zach’s attention. His head snaps up, locking his gaze with Karl’s in confusion.

“Another? On the beach?”

“Yeah. Coastal patrol found them. The body is still there, and they want us down there.”

Hands back on his temples, Zach does his best not to groan again. But this is new. This is different. And this is not what he was hoping to hear.

“Fuck me… Two days in a row... That hasn’t happened before….” Zach mumbles, more to himself than to Karl.

“I know… Look, I can go down there alone on this one? You seem a bit-”

Zach doesn’t bother to let Karl finish, pushing himself up to stand and dragging his fingers through his hair in a poor attempt to straighten out whatever strands might have gone rogue in his sleep. He shakes his head and moves to gather up and organize the files on his desk as best he can - shoving photographs and documents haphazardly back into place.

“No, I’ll come, just give me a second.”  

Grabbing up the folders and his bag, Zach shoves them in with only a modicum of care, suddenly in a hurry to get down to the bay. He grabs his coat and nods at Karl.

“Alright, let’s go.”

 

 


	2. 02.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 02.

It’s probably the lack of a good night’s sleep, but everything seems to be bothering Zach this morning. From the bright, blinking lights of the squad cars to the sound that the sand makes as it shifts beneath his steps, it’s all just a little too overwhelming for him. But as he and Karl persist down the beach, he forgets about all of that quickly.

This one is in a different spot than the last one - about 200 or so yards from where the girl was found yesterday - but much like the woman’s body had, this one rests down close to steadily encroaching surf.

But this body… This body is different than the last one. While the woman’s corpse had been pristine and untouched - free of any sort of bruising, markings, or cuts (at least on the outside) - this one is anything but. The victim - a male, judging by the physique - can’t be more than 25 years old. But honestly, Zach can’t even say that much for sure. His face looks young, as does his skin, but the sheer extent of the damage this man appears to have suffered does nothing but obscure what might have once been identifiable features.

He’s got a dark mop of black hair atop his head - stiff and caked with salt, sand, and dried blood. His face is mostly red from blood and wounds that litter his flesh, but the sickeningly pale complexion of lifeless skin still shows through the crimson tint, if only to remind Zach that this had been a person until just a few hours ago.

Zach crouches down slowly beside the body, careful not to touch or disturb it as John and his team gather evidence. He lets his gaze move up and down the body, taking in whatever information he can garner from the mangled flesh of this corpse. There are acute wounds on the chest and abdomen, and though it’s hard to tell with the torn fabric and drying blood around them, Zach could swear that they look almost… precise. The corpse’s legs are contorted and folded over themselves, and Zach is almost positive that at least one of them is broken.

The face - frozen in its expression - looks terrified. Eyes wide open, they stare out at the sea as if it had been the last thing this man had seen as the breath left his body.

Zach has to wonder if he fought. Did he try to defend himself, did he fight until all that was left of him was a bloodied body on the sand?

Turning his attention back to the wounds, Zach gestures silently for John to hand him a pair of gloves. He slips them on as quickly as he can and reaches out to move the torn fabric of the victim’s shirt aside. His eyes scan over the myriad of lacerations that cover the body. Zach’s brow furrows as he stares at them - there are several vertical cuts along the chest and ribs, and one long horizontal gash running along the length of the abdomen. And despite the dark, red blood and the grainy sand that lines the skin and cuts - giving them a more gruesome and gnarled appearance - the wounds seem almost… intentionally placed. They seem almost meticulous - as if they had been sliced with surgical precision and Zach can’t seem to tear his eyes away. He drops his hand steadily, but doesn’t break his gaze.

He has to wonder what all beneath this man’s skin might be missing.

Noting Zach’s intent focus, Karl and John are quick to squat beside him as he stares.

“What is it?” Karl asks, darting his eyes between Zach’s face and the body before them. But Zach doesn’t answer his colleague’s question.

“I want Zoe on this one as soon as possible, John.” Zach instructs instead, and John nods quickly, already pulling out his cellphone to contact the office.

Zach stands slowly, Karl standing with him, and peels off the red-tainted gloves as carefully as he can.

“I want to talk to the coastal officer who found this one.” Karl says idly, staring off at the people bustling around the scene. Zach simply nods.

They step away from the corpse to let John and his team continue to gather the last traces of evidence that they can. Zach and Karl only retreat as they see the truck from the coroner’s office pull up, ready to the load up the body and take it to Zoe. Zach sighs and nods, already striding back towards their car, with Karl quick behind him.

The two of them approach the car, but even as Karl slides in, Zach hesitates, once more letting his eyes scan over the environment. He doesn’t know what in him tells him to keep looking off into the distance, to look for whatever structure he’d thought he’d seen the day before, but he looks out across the rocks and dunes until he sees it.

Out in the distance, but seemingly a little closer today than it had been yesterday, stands a dark splotch in the vagest shape of a house.

Not taking his eyes off the structure, Zach taps the roof of the car to get Karl’s attention. It seems to work, as Karl opens his door and stands to look at Zach over the top of the car.

“What?” He asks.

Zach merely looks at him for a moment before cocking his head in the general direction of what he’s come to believe is a home.

“Does anyone live out here?” Zach asks him idly. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Karl’s head turn to follow his gaze.

“...Not that I know of... “ Karl mumbles, his eyes squinting as he stares off into the distance, “Who the hell would want to, anyway?”

“I don’t know. But… You see that, right?” Zach points once more towards the spot on the horizon. Karl nods.

“I see it.”

“Looks like a house to me.” Zach muses, tapping the hood of the car pensively.

“You wanna go check it out?”

“Yeah.”

**::**

Zach opts for the two of them to simply walk to the cottage. It’s quite a hike from where they’re parked, but he isn’t entirely sure what the best way would be to drive the car up to it, if there even is a direct route at all. This beach is so desolate and unfrequented that there’s no telling if there’s anyway to get a car up to the damn place or not.

As they approach, they walk with an understandable bit of caution. Sat atop a hill of rock, sand, and spots of grass, the cottage seems out of place along the barren, rocky coast of the bay. It’s a small home - a size that Zach is tempted to describe as “quaint” - made of dark and cracking wood painted with a deep coat of grey-ish brown. There’s a small chimney on one side with vines of ivy growing up along the lines of the bricks, and along the sills of the darkened windows, a few flower boxes stand with flowers that seem to be struggling to grow.

The place appears innocuous enough, Zach supposes, but he can’t help the small inkling of concern that flutters in his stomach.

The two of them approach carefully - walking up the stone walkway to the front door. A car - an old, but well-kept, hunter green Porsche that Zach has to remind himself not to gawk at and admire - is parked to the side of the house, with a black bicycle stood up beside it.

“At least we know someone’s home…” Karl mumbles, letting Zach step ahead of him as they approach the door. Zach just nods, hesitantly reaching out his arm to knock on the door.

He raps gently at first, but finds his firmness mid-strike, letting the knocks sound out determinedly.

He isn’t sure if he expected an answer or not, but his knocks are met with only silence. He shoots a glance at Karl, who simply shrugs and leans over to try and catch a glimpse in one of the windows. Zach sighs and reaches out to knock once again, a bit louder this time, but he still receives no answer.

The third time, he raps with force, pounding a few knocks into the wood of the door loudly enough that it should garner the attention of anyone who might be home.

“Hello?? Anyone home?” He calls out, as futile as he knows the inquiries to be. When no answer comes, Zach lets out a huff, following Karl’s lead to peak into the windows.

It’s only as his eyes are focusing in on the darkened interior of the cabin that he hears the hinges of the front door creak open hesitantly. He and Karl both snap their gaze towards the door.

The door isn’t opened but a smidgen, just enough that a face is visible through the crack. Zach peers for a moment, before quickly finding himself and stepping back to stand front and center in front of the door. He can’t see much of the man’s face, but the first thing Zach notices is that he looks fairly young - Zach’s age, perhaps a couple years younger - the light, scruffy beard the only thing that makes the man look a bit older than he is.

The second thing he notices is his eyes. Only one is in full view, the other half-hidden by the door, but they’re a piercing, bright blue and penetrating in a way that makes Zach forget himself for a moment.

“Can I help you?” The man asks softly, his brow furrowing as he stares at them. It’s only the sound of his voice that drags Zach back to the present. He shakes his head and reaches into his pocket to grab his badge, Karl quickly mirroring his actions.

“Uh, yes, sir, I’m Detective Quinto, this is Detective Urban. We were wondering if you had a few minutes to chat with us.”

The man - still peering out at them through the barely opened door - seems perplexed, and Zach isn’t entirely sure if he’s confused about why two detectives are standing at his front door, or if he’s simply perplexed at having someone at his front door at all. With the sheer isolation of this coast, Zach wouldn’t be surprised if it were the latter.

“What for?”

“We won’t take up much of your time.” Karl says with a nod and a soft smile, and Zach is quick to follow up his statement.

“Just want to ask you a few questions, that’s all.”

The man seems hesitant, those bright blue eyes darting between Karl and Zach, before he nods hesitantly and eases the door open a bit wider. He stands aside to let the two of them squeeze through, without actually opening the door wide enough to give them much space to enter, as if their presence was no more than an intrusion.

That being said, Zach is actually pleasantly surprised once he enters the house. While he had expected the interior to reflect the rather dismal exterior and location of the house, he’s mildly relieved as he walks into what he supposes is the living room to see that the inside looks simply…. like a home. It’s a little warm inside, and Zach would wager it’s a central heating/air system staving off the chill of the beach wind. The walls are lined with what look like family photos, and beautiful, classy pieces of art. There are books everywhere - lining the shelves and the coffee table. There’s a TV that isn’t on and what looks to be a gaming console of some sort.  

And Zach is content with the coziness of it all. This place feels normal… or at least as normal as a cottage in Lithica Bay can feel. But it feels like a house, like a _home_ should feel, and he quickly notes the uneasy caution he’d felt earlier dissipating.

He mostly just wonders how he never knew someone actually lived out here.

Putting his thoughts aside, Zach allows himself to investigate the stranger whose living room he's invaded. His body is trim and fit, the physique of someone who clearly makes use of the muscle and sinew he has. He has a handsome face, there's no doubt about that. Those eyes are positively captivating, his face youthful but still traveled, enough so that perhaps if the circumstances were different, Zach might not even hesitate to ask this man out for coffee.

But unfortunately, the circumstances aren’t different. And instead, he and Karl are standing in a handsome stranger’s living room if only for the sake of investigating the slew of murders that have occurred near his home.

The man seems to eye the two of them curiously - as if he’s unsure if he should introduce himself, or let them speak. Instead, he scratches the back of his head with an obvious aura of discomfort and clears his throat.

“So… What can I do for you gentlemen?”

“Well, Mister, uh…” Zach starts, his words slowing as he realizes he hadn’t even bothered to ask this man’s name yet.

“Pine... “ The man starts, “Chris Pine....”

Chris.

The same suits him.

“Mr. Pine,” Zach starts again, opting to keep things as professional as he can. Because no matter how lovely this man might be, he’s here to investigate a death, not make idle conversation. “We just wanted to ask you a few questions regarding some things that have been happening in the area lately.”

Zach gestures noncommittally to the couch in the living room, silently asking if he can sit. Chris is quick to respond, eyes going wide, as if he’s suddenly accusing himself of being a bad host.

“Oh, gosh, I’m sorry, where are my manners? Please, sit anywhere you like.”

Karl nods to him and he and Zach sit down slowly. Chris stays standing.

“Can I get you two anything?” He asks awkwardly. “Something to drink? I think I have… uh. Well. Water.”

Zach doesn’t mean to, but he smiles nonetheless. Had the circumstances been different, Zach could see himself liking this man’s somewhat awkward, bumbling charm.  

“I think we’re fine, thank you.” He says, gesturing towards the chair across from where he and Karl are seated. “Please, take a seat.”

Chris does so hesitantly, settling down into the chair and crossing his legs. Zach makes a quick mental note of the gesture, watching as Chris walls himself off as if he wants to hide from them. That twinge of curiosity and cautiousness flares once again in Zach’s chest at Chris’s movements and for a moment he wonders if perhaps this man, however handsome and innocuous he may seem, might have more to tell than Zach originally thought.

“So… what’s this about exactly?” Chris asks. Zach watches his fingers twitch along the fabric of the chair, and glances to Karl briefly, who takes his cue.

“Well, I’m sure you’ve noticed that there’s been a bit of hustle and bustle down around the beach these last few days, right?” Karl inquires coyly, prodding at Chris in his own subtle, yet completely unsubtle way.

Chris nods in response.

“Yeah. Seen a lot of cops.”

The words slip past Chris’s lips with ease, as if seeing a bunch of cop cars and coroner vehicles over the last two days didn’t phase him in the slightest.  This man’s behavior and body language is so mixed, Zach just can’t get a read on him. He furrows his brow a bit and clears his throat.

“Right. We don’t want to alarm you, but speaking frankly, we’ve had a few bodies show up along the beach over the course of the last month. Two, specifically, just in the last two days.”

Chris seems to bristle at that, and Zach is happy to at least get something of a reaction from him. His brow furrows up in what Zach can only assume is worry or curiosity - hard to tell which - and he uncrosses his legs, leaning forward slightly in his chair.

“You mean… there have been more?”

Karl spares a glance at Zach.

“More? So, you’re aware of them then?”

“Of one of them, at least.” Chris breathes incredulously.

“How exactly did you hear about it? So far we’ve managed to keep the story relatively quiet until we could find out more about what we’re dealing with.” Karl says, and Zach can’t help but note the hint of suspicion that lines his voice.

“What do you mean’? I’m the one who found the guy, how else would I know about it?”

“You _found_ one of the bodies?” Karl repeats questioningly, and Chris nods. It’s only then that Zach decides to chime in, trying his best to not let his tone reflect the wariness he’s begun to feel in his stomach.

“So… you’re telling us that you found a body, a _dead_ body, on the shore of the beach you live on and you didn’t think to call it in or anything?”

“Of course I called it in!” Chris says firmly.

“Who’d you speak to? When you called, I mean.” Karl asks, dragging a notebook out of his pocket, ready to write down whatever Chris tells him.

“A woman. At the police department. I think her name was… Alex… or, no, Alice. That was it, Alice.”

“Did you give her your name when you called?”

“Of course.”

Karl nods and makes a quick note to himself, and Zach has to assume it’s a reminder to check with Alice to confirm that someone named Chris Pine actually did call. Zach pries a bit further.

“Okay, can you tell me about when you found it? What did it look like? When did you find it? That sort of thing.”

Chris lets out a soft breath and leans back in his chair.

“It was really early. Sun was just coming up, and  I was walking the dog.”

“I didn’t know you had a dog.” Zach interrupts curiously, mostly because he hadn’t seen a single trace of an animal here since they’d arrived.

“She’s out back.”

“What’s her name?”

“...Charlie.”

Zach smiles placatingly and nods for Chris to continue.

“I, uh. We were on our morning walk. I typically take her along the edge of the woods. I don’t usually go close to the water. But she randomly started to bark up a storm - she was just barkin’, and growlin’, and tugging really hard on the leash like she wanted to go down towards the water.”

Zach nods, while Karl continues to scribble in his notebook. Zach watches Chris’s eyes settle on Karl, watching the other man jot down information as he speaks it, and Zach can’t help but note the way Chris is steadily looking more and more uncomfortable in their presence. But despite his seeming uneasiness, he continues nonetheless.

“Eventually, she tugged her leash right out of my hand and started tearing down to the water. So naturally, I went after her. And when I got down there, Charlie was barking at the water, standing next to a…. a guy. A guy lyin’ face down on the sand right by the surf…”

“What did you do when you saw him?”

“I didn’t want to get close. I was hoping maybe it was just someone… sleeping, or something. Which is… weird enough on its own. We don’t exactly get many people coming out here. But I stood there for a while, and Charlie just kept looking at the water and barking and barking and barking… And the guy just didn’t move.”

Chris hesitates for a moment, his eyes quickly diverting from Zach’s to stare distantly into the middle distance.

“I kinda just knew then…. that he wasn’t asleep.”

Zach doesn’t need Chris to say it to hear the unspoken “that he was dead” on the end of his sentence.

“Did you notice anything about the guy? Anything strange?” Karl mumbles.

Chris just shrugs.

“I didn’t get very close… I didn’t really want to, as I’m sure you can understand. But I remember his hands.”

“His hands?” Zach presses. At his question, Chris’s gaze darts up, eyes locking with Zach’s for a moment.

“There was blood all over them.”

Zach doesn’t speak, his eyes suddenly unwilling to look away from Chris’s penetrating ones, and he can think only of the first victim’s missing finger.

“There was a lot of it... And it looked…” Chris pauses for a moment, his eyes moving away from Zach’s, “It looked fresh. That’s when I called the cops.”

Karl hmmphs slightly and crosses his arms over his chest, notebook resting lightly in his lap.

“I’m surprised no one talked to you at the time.”

“Some deputy did - can’t remember his name. Just asked me a few things and that was it.”

“Okay, well we certainly appreciate the information.” Zach starts again, “Now… can you tell us where you were this morning?”

Chris shrugs.

“Around when?”

Zach shoots a look to Karl.

“Say between 4:00 and 8:30 am?”

A small chuckle slips past Chris’s teeth, and Zach thinks it’s probably the first time he’s seen this man actually smile since they got here. He tries to ignore how warm and gentle Chris’s smile seems to be. There’s a certain honey to the way Chris behaves as he seems to let his guard down - it’s tender and not exactly something Zach is used to seeing.

He tries to think of the last time he was intimate with anyone, before quickly reminding himself that they’re here investigating a murder, not looking for a date.

“Well, at 4:00 I was sleeping. Um, I got up around 5:45, got ready, and left to go to town around 6:15 or so…. Got home I guess around 8ish? Not entirely sure.”

“Why did you go into town?”

“Just the usual supply run.”

“Supplies?” Zach asks, “Like what?”

“You know, groceries, um… some more paper and ink? That sort of stuff.”

“Okay. Do you maybe have a receipt or anything from the store that we could see?”

“A receipt?” Chris questions, his brow lifting slightly, “Why do you need-” He pauses for a moment, leaning forward once more in the chair and staring at the two of them curiously, “Wait, is this… am I giving you an _alibi_? Am I a suspect??”

Zach and Karl shoot each other a look before Karl clears his throat and turns his attention back to Chris.

“We’re not ruling anything out at this point.” He states plainly. Zach is quick to follow up.

“Five deaths in one month, all occurring within a mile or so of your home. We just want to be sure.” Zach pauses for a beat, waiting to see if Chris might have something to say. But when he says nothing, Zach opts to continue. “ _I_ would feel better being able to verify that you were where you say you were, that way we _can_ rule you out.”

He says the last bit as kindly as he can, trying his best to appear as understanding as he can be with the hope that Chris might be more willing to work with them on this.

Chris doesn’t say anything for a moment, and Zach is starting to wonder if they might need to repeat their request, if only to drive it home. But Chris eventually nods, speaking as he pushes to stand up.

“Um… yeah, I think I probably still have the receipt… Just, let me check.”

Zach and Karl both stand as Chris does, watching him as he steps past them, moving swiftly into the other room. Once he’s gone, Karl shoots Zach a look, cocking his head a bit to gesture towards the room, silently telling Zach to get a quick glimpse around while they can.

Zach nods and lets his eyes scan the room.

It’s a fairly normal living room - coffee table, couch, arm chairs, some bookcases, a television system. Zach lets his eyes peruse over the titles of the books on the shelf. Some are things he’s heard of - some Stephen King books, a few Dean Koontz and Clive Barker, and even a copy of House of Leaves with a worn out spine that tells Zach it’s been opened over and over again.

Zach smirks, realizing quickly that the two of them seem to have a similar taste in literature.

He eyes a few more of the shelves, and quickly notes that there’s one shelf that holds only books by a single author. Zach tilts his head a bit to get a look at the name on some of the spines. He furrows his brow as his eyes graze over the name “Christopher Pine” that resides on all the spines. There’s at least ten or twelve books here. He keeps his head tilted to read over some of the titles, but his attention is snapped away before he can even read the first one. From the corner of the room, he hears Karl snapping his fingers. He swings his head around to see his colleague standing by a writing desk in the corner of the room underneath a window. Zach approaches quickly, following Karl’s gestures to look at the book that’s sitting open on the desktop.

Karl grabs the book and folds it over to show the cover. It’s an old human anatomy textbook, the cover depicting a moderately grotesque image of a skinless human, shrouded only in its reddened musculature and sinew. Karl lets it open back up to the page it was on and points silently.

Beside his finger, the bold words “Organs and Functions of the Respiratory System”.

Zach’s eyes scan the page quickly, noting that there are a few things underlined, a couple passages highlighted, and a few words circled, but he doesn’t stop to read them. Instead, he steps away from the desk as he hears Chris rustling about in bags from the other room.

“What do you do for a living, Mr. Pine?” Zach half-shouts into the other room.  

“Oh, I’m a writer.” Is the distant reply.

“What kind of things do you write?”

As Chris’s footsteps begin to near, Karl quickly steps back towards the couch to stand beside Zach.

“Uh, mostly thriller/suspense novels; a bit of horror thrown in there now and again.”

“Any success?” Karl asks, albeit a bit brusquely. Zach shoots him a look.

Chris just shrugs.

“It pays the bills.” Chris juts out his hand, offering a small sheet of paper to Karl. “I found the receipt. It’s timestamped and everything - today’s date and the time I told you.”

“Thank you.” Karl says, taking the receipt and stowing it in his notebook.

“Is there anything else I can do for you two?”

“No, sir, I think that’s about it for now.”

Chris nods at the two of them, and Karl and Zach turn to head back towards the front door. Chris follows close as they go.

“You know, I’m quite a fan of horror and suspense..”  tells him with a smile. “Perhaps I should read your work.”

Chris smirks softly, eyes lingering on Zach for another moment longer, and moves around them to open the door.

“If you must,” he chuckles, standing aside so Karl and Zach can step through the doorway.

Zach stops for a moment on the doorstep and turns around, digging into his pocket for his wallet and tugging out a card. He hands it to Chris gently.

“Here’s my card. Contact me if you happen to remember anything else or if you see anything strange.”

Chris looks at the card for a moment, as if analyzing it, and nods his affirmation.

“I absolutely will, detective.”

“Great.” Zach turns to leave, hearing the door begin to creak shut behind him. But he stops himself once more, pausing before turning back around and placing his hand on the door to stop its closure. Chris looks at him with curiosity, but doesn’t protest. “One more thing, Chris.” Zach says, pushing slightly on the door to ease it open a bit more, “You said your dog was barking at the water. Why do you think she did that?”

Chris leans his hip against the doorframe, one arm still holding onto the wooden door, as if prepared to close it. He shrugs.

“I don’t know. She seems to do it a lot lately though.”

Zach watches Chris as he stops for a moment, looking down at the ground and biting his lip. His fingers curl a bit as they hold the door.

“I don’t go too close to the water anymore, anyway.”

Zach sinches his brow, but nods nonetheless. He thanks Chris once more, and repeats his instruction for Chris to contact him if he notices anything out of the ordinary.

As the door shuts, Zach steps away, moving to follow Karl as the two of them begin their hike back towards their car. Zach cranes his head around as they walk, watching the house as it recedes from view. He squints his eyes a bit, and he could swear he sees the dark figure of a dog sitting at the side of the house, staring intently out at the water. Zach exhales steadily and turns his head back, focusing instead on their walk back.

They walk in silence for a while, the house behind them steadily becoming no more than a splotch on the horizon once again. Zach spares a glance at his colleague and he watches as Karl pulls the receipt Chris gave him out of his notebook and looks it over.

“It’s timestamped for this morning, alright. 7:29 am...” Karl affirms, “But it looks like he paid in cash.”

“So?”

“Well, when you run a card, your name shows up on the receipt. You pay in cash, there’s no name tied to the purchase. No card, no name, so we can’t be 100% sure it was actually _him_ there.”

Zach nods understandingly.

“Okay. Then we’ll go by the store, see if they’ll let us take a peek at the security footage, double check it was him.”

Karl gives him a small grunt of agreement, and the two trek onward. Ahead of them, they watch as the coroner’s truck begins to lock up and drive away. A few people still linger on the beach - taking photographs and talking. John seems to notice them approaching and watches them. Zach lifts his arm to wave, silently signalling to him that he can leave whenever he’s read. John nods in return and turns back to his team.

Zach mulls over his thoughts as they edge closer to the car, Most of the things Chris had said had been inconsequential. Naturally, he’d need to remember to check with Alice about when Chris had called the first body in. But there was something Chris had said before they’d left that Zach can’t stop repeating in his head. He isn’t exactly sure why that particular comment feels so significant, but he just can’t let it go.

“Smoke’s gunna come out your ears in a minute, if you keep on like that.” Karl chuckles, snapping Zach quickly out of his thoughts.

He must have looked painfully pensive, and he quickly relaxes his face and smiles.

“Nah, it’s just…” He starts, striding heavily up to the side of their car, “something that guy said kinda stuck with me.”

Zach avoids saying his name, if only because he doesn’t want to become to accustomed to the sound of it.

Chris...

“That right?” Karl asks as he unlocks the car. The two of them quickly slide in and Karl starts the engine but doesn’t put it into gear. Instead, he turns and stares at Zach expectantly..

“Yeah… I mean, it’s probably nothing, but…”

“But?”

“When we were leaving, Chris said _‘I don’t get too close to the water anymore, anyway.’_ ”

“So?” Karl asks with a haphazard shrug, “He’s not a water guy.”

“No, no… He didn’t say he never went close to the water. He said _‘I don’t get too close **anymore** ’_... Plus, why would someone who doesn’t like water move to the beach? Doesn’t that strike you as a bit odd?”

Karl quirks his head a bit, nodding haphazardly in agreement with Zach’s question.

“What do you think it means, then?”

Karl puts the car into gear and starts to back up, ready to put the two of them on the road away from the beach. Zach looks out the window, staring as the scenery quickly morphs from rocky beach to dense evergreen again. He shakes his head.

“I’m not sure… But I think he might know more than he’s letting on.”

**::**

The first thing he and Karl do is head into town. They head to the store where Chris claims to have been earlier that morning to request access to the security footage. The manager on duty - while a bit reticent, even at the sight of their badges - complies with their requests, scanning the morning footage with them over the span of the times Chris had given them. The tapes, although a bit fuzzy, as security tapes are wont to be, unquestionably show Chris entering the store at 7:07 AM, getting in the checkout line at 7:26 am, and paying at 7:29 am. Given the distance between Chris’s home and the store, Zach doesn’t doubt that he was home around 8:00 am like he claimed, give or take a few minutes.

If he’s perfectly honest, Zach is a little relieved to see Chris’s face on the tapes. He isn’t entirely sure why, but as he spoke with Chris and looked in his eyes, he deeply wanted to believe that what he had said was true… He has no reason to trust this man, or to even want to think him innocent, and yet Zach wants to believe that such horrific, gruesome things couldn’t have come from someone so seemingly gentle and warm. But, at the same time, he knows that looks can be deceiving...

Karl, on the other hand, seems almost disappointed at the verification of Chris’s alibi. And frankly, Zach knows it isn’t because his colleague wants an innocent man to take the fall for such horrific crimes, but rather because this is the closest thing they’ve had to a lead or a suspect since these mysterious deaths began a month ago. Deep down, Zach understands.

After they leave the store, he and Karl split ways. His partner goes off on his own to make a few phone calls to the coast guard to see if they can give them any information, while Zach swears he had intended to go see Zoe regarding the autopsy.

But he doesn’t.

Instead he goes back to the department and tells his receptionist to page Zoe with instructions to call him with any pertinent information. He sits in his office, reading over files and forensics reports that he almost knows by heart now and awaits her calls regarding whatever information she’s garnered from the corpse’s autopsy.

He hadn’t felt the need this time to even bother with the trip to the morgue. He’s almost certain that when she calls, it will be only to tell him that something, some body part, has been taken from the latest victim.

Zach accesses the case files on his computer from today’s reports, and he scans through the photographs from the scene, staring intently at the close ups of the victim’s injuries. They’re so exact, so _calculated_ , just from the look of them. Two across the chest, one right down the middle, one gashed across the stomach, and one long one lengthwise from the sternum to the middle of the neck. And yet, despite their precision and intention, the cut patterns still don’t seem to match a knife or even a scalpel blade.

They look foreign. It all feels so alien to him, so strange, and frankly Zach isn’t exactly used to feeling this unsure for this long. It’s not a feeling he particularly likes. He groans and turns away from his computer, digging through folders and pulling out a few older photographs: one of each of the victims.

Missing body parts, mutilation for some, untouched flesh for others.

He hates to even think it - but it doesn’t even seem _human_.

But of course, it _has_ to be human. There’s nothing else it could be. Animals don’t attack with this sort of precision, this sort of intentional specificity.

Animals don’t yank lungs out through the mouth, or fill the other with sea water. They certainly don’t make surgical-neat lacerations with any sort of premeditated intention.

Zach huffs frustratedly as he stares at the photographs laid out in front of him.

What is he missing?

Is he missing anything at all?

And what about Chris?

Zach leans back in his chair. It creaks softly at the movements, reclining back ever so slightly to accommodate him. He drags his fingers through his hair, mind racing with thoughts and feelings - things that he’s struggling at this point to comprehend.

For a while, Zach simply stares into the middle distance, an empty spot in space as his mind clogs with thoughts and curiosities. And among those curiosities are wayward thoughts of Chris. They seem to waffle between the man’s possible involvement, what all he might know that he isn’t telling them, and why exactly Zach can’t seem to stop thinking about him… Why his eyes were so piercing.. Or about how he can’t stop wondering if Chris is safe right now.

If he _is_ safe, and more importantly, if he’s innocent does Chris honestly feel safe living there now with all that has happened? And why does he even care? It certainly feels like something that extends beyond the simple _Care for the Safety of the Public_ thing that his job usually entails.  

Chris: that confusing piece of this puzzle that Zach can’t seem to stop focusing on. The security tapes had verified his alibi undoubtedly. And Zach is willing to bet that Chris’s whereabouts can easily be accounted for during all the other deaths. So _why_ is he still thinking about him?

At the very least, Zach is sure that Chris needs to get away from that beach.

But if he knows anything, it’s that Chris isn’t a killer. Zach’s met enough of those to know that much. And of course, no one murderer is the same, but Chris just doesn’t fit the bill. Sure, he’s a little… strange, perhaps… seemingly a bit reclusive and solitary. But Zach knows a killer when he sees one. And Chris just isn’t it.

He shakes his head, quickly attempting to clear his mind of any thoughts of the man and his smile, scruffy beard, and frighteningly vivid blue eyes… despite the fact that they’re the kind of eyes that have that cerulean color to them that the ocean rightly should have (even though it doesn’t).

This guy is a _suspect_ right now, and even though he may not be killer, there’s still the chance that he knows more than he’s letting on, and the sooner Zach accepts that the better off he’ll be.

In the quiet, Zach spares a quick glance at his computer. He hesitantly leans forward and jiggles the mouse. The home screen pops up and he quickly opens his browser. He hovers his mouse hesitantly over the search bar before clicking it and beginning to type slowly.

_**Christopher Pine author new release** _

Zach squints at his screen as the results show up and quickly clicks the first result he sees. It’s a link to a GoodReads page about Chris. Several books show up under his name on the page, and Zach notes quickly that the books don’t seem to be listed in any particular order - perhaps by popularity though - but in the description of each novel shows the release date.

He seems fairly consistent - releasing a book once every 9 months to a year. As Zach peruses, his eyes quickly focus on the publishing date for one of Chris’s newest novels. The title in particular catches Zach’s attention.

_Whitecaps and Other Stories._   
_A Collection._

Zach clicks on it with curiosity. He glances at the cover: an image of a desolate, foggy beach encased by a tremulous sea. He scrolls down a bit on the page, quickly noting the novel’s recent publish date.

It was published within the last week.

Zach rushes to expand the book’s summary, eyes scanning it quickly.

The book appears to be a collection of short horror stories, all set along the rocky coast of New England. Described by critics as “a frightfully enrapturing collection”, “eerie and enchanting unlike any other”, and “as intriguing as it is gruesome”, Zach has to admit, it’s piqued his interest. He opens a new tab and navigates to Amazon, quickly searching for the book.

He finds it almost immediately. It’s got four out of five stars with almost 250 reviews. Not exactly puny considering the recent release date.

Zach leans back in his chair, letting his eyes focus on the screen. His mouse is hovering over the Buy Now option, and he’s trying to determine if his interest in the book is entirely professional or not, silently attempting to convince himself that this is not only relevant to the case, but that it could reveal important information about one of their suspects.

With a sigh, he leans forward once more and clicks Buy Now.

He tells himself it’s for the case.

As the confirmation page pops up on his screen, his phone begins to blare loudly. Zach fumbles for the receiver, shoving it against his face with a curt hello.

To little surprise, it’s Zoe on the other end of the line. To even less surprise, she tells him that their latest victim’s left lung and stomach are missing. Zach doesn’t need Zoe to tell him that the absent organs had likely been yanked out through the glaring lacerations along his chest and abdomen or that this poor kid had probably still been alive when they were taken from him.

Zach doesn’t need Zoe to tell him that the extent of facial damage on this victim is making it so they still have to consider him a John Doe.

He hangs up the phone with little more than a murmured goodbye, fingers already at his eyes, digging in if only to try and scrub himself of the mental picture he’s creating of that man’s grizzly death. Zach hardly glances up at the sound of his door opening, and the tell-tale sound of Karl’s steps entering his office.

His partner sits in the chair on the other side of his desk and sighs.

“Did you talk to Zoe?” Karl asks him, to which Zach simply nods silently, already knowing that Karl is aware of what all has been taken from their victim.

Karl clears his throat.

“Yeah, she called me too. I hate to say this… but at this point, I’m not even surprised. How fucked up is that?”

Zach scoffs, knowing without a doubt that his colleague is talking about the fact that this body is missing pieces just like all the others have been.

“The sad thing is, neither am I.” He mumbles, finally lifting his eyes to look at Karl.  

Karl doesn’t respond.

“What did the coast guard say?” Zach prods, hoping perhaps that his partner discovered something, _anything_ that might help them out.

“Not much,” Karl states flatly, “Mostly what we already knew. They found the stiff lying on the beach while they were on patrol, right as the sun was coming up. They’ve closed off that strip of the beach to the public now though, so that’s something.”

 _That_ gets Zach’s attention. His eyes snap up, and his first thought is to ask about Chris.

If they’ve closed the beach off to public access, what have they done about the sole resident of the area? True, Chris probably lives far enough back that they may not have listed his home as _technically_ “at risk”, but surely they would see that he could still be in danger. Has he been relocated? Are they simply allowing him to stay? But Zach supposes that if the Coast Guard feels comfortable letting him stay, then there isn’t a whole lot that he can do about it, especially if Chris doesn’t want to leave.

Zach’s thoughts race with questions about this man, things he considers voicing to his partner, but something inside him tells him not to ask. Instead, he simply nods assuredly at Karl’s words.

“That’s smart. I assume they’re going to patrol the area more closely now too?”

“Yeah, they said they would be keeping in a bit closer to shore during critical hours, just to keep their eyes on the place.”

“Alright, good.”

 

 


	3. 03.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 03.

Zach leaves the office early that night - perhaps as an attempt to compensate for the night before that he’d spent sleeping in his office chair. But even as he lay in his comfortable bed, he found himself restless. He thought of Chris, and the beach, and he worried that perhaps he would wake up to an early morning phone call reporting yet another body. He tried not to think of it, but part of him even worried that the body they might find... would be Chris’s.

When he does find sleep, it’s fitful at best. Zach’s dreams are filled with gore he wishes to forget. They’re full of images of a monstrous sea with bodies floating in the water. He dreams of barking dogs and of an ocean that had violently stolen the blue of Chris’s eyes. He wakes more times than he cares to admit.

He’s relieved in the morning when he’s met with no new reports of corpses in the night. There are no frantic texts or urgent phone calls - and he’s happy for the peace. He heads into work, meets up with Karl to discuss a few items they need to take care of, and retires to his office to work on the case files.

To his credit, he works diligently for a little while. But after a few hours, he’s interrupted by a short knock on his door. A package carrier enters with a small box under his arm, asking for Zach’s signature, and Zach knows immediately what it is. Amazon doesn’t fuck around with 1-day shipping, dear lord. Zach signs for the package and tears it open, staring intently at the pristine cover of Chris’s book. He cracks it open gently, flipping to the table of contents and browsing a few of the stories titles. They all seem to be oceanic in theme... _“Atlantic”_ , _“Beyond the Swells”_ , _“The Reef”_ , and even the titular _“Whitecaps”_.

But he doesn’t read them yet. Instead, he drums his fingers along the spine and stares at the phone on his desk. His mind is racing with thoughts he can’t seem to organize. Is this book even relevant? Normally, he’d think not. The guy lives on one of the most barren, unvisited, and desolate strips of coast - he lives on a beach that’s barely a beach at all, of course a horror writer is going to write a bunch of stuff inspired by where he lives. Who wouldn’t get the creeps from that place? Zach knows he does.

And yet… at the same time, something tells him he needs this book.  

Zach sets the book down neatly and reaches out to grab his phone, hesitating for an instant as he touches it, before lifting it to his ear and dialing the call desk of the main PD. It only takes two rings before someone answers.

“Lithica Police, how can I direct your call?” A kind voice answers.

“Alice? It’s Zach.”

“Hey Z,” she says happily, “haven’t talked to you in a while, what can I do for you, dear?”

“Um, I just need you to verify something for me.”

“Sure thing.”

“A few weeks back, when that first body was found out at the Bay,”

“Mhm,”

“Who called that in? Was that called in to you guys by a civilian or did an officer come upon it?”

“It was called in, um, one sec… I took the call, can’t remember the guy’s name though… Just a sec, I’ll find it.”

In the background, he can hear the distant click of a keyboard.

“Yup, here we go.” Alice starts, pausing as if she were re-reading the report. “Resident of the bay called it in to us. A guy named… Pine, Chris Pine. He called it in to us, we sent officers and a forensics crew out, talked with him a bit, aaaaaand... then called you guys in for it. That’s it.”

“...Okay. Thanks. That’s all I needed.”

“Want me to send you the report?”

“Would you mind?”

“Not at all, it’s heading your way. It’s nothing too remarkable, though.”

“I appreciate it, Alice.” Zach waits a beat before blurting out, “Oh, one more thing.”

“Yeah?” She asks.

Zach pauses for a moment, as if considering how exactly he should phrase his next question.

“Is Mr. Pine’s contact information in the report?” He fumbles out.

“Yup, you should be all set if you need to talk with him again.”

“Okay, thanks a bunch.”

Zach hangs up the phone gently, resting his chin on his hands.

So… Chris _had_ called the first body in, just like he’d said. Zach’s a bit relieved, honestly. He still wonders, or even believes, that Chris might know more than what he’s let on, but at least so far the things he’s told them have been the truth.

Zach only has to wait a few minutes before the report shows up in his email. He’s more than a little curious as to why this report had slipped by him and Karl in the first place. But sometimes things slip through the cracks, even in a department as meticulous as Homicide. Zach opens the report and skims it briefly, and he begins to understand why this might not have been flagged as that important to the investigation.

Alice was right - it’s wholly unremarkable, considering the circumstances. The report notes that Chris appeared distraught over the entire ordeal. He was cooperative, offering the deputies he spoke with the exact same information he’d given Zach and Karl when they had questioned him earlier today. The deputy that interviewed him noted that Chris had seemed “of sound mind, forthright, and honest, albeit visibly upset over the incident.”

But all in all, Chris didn’t seem to have any actual _information_ aside from the fact that he’d come upon the body.

Zach pauses as he reaches the bottom of the report, staring at Chris’s contact information, including his phone number. There’s no indication of whether it’s a landline or a cell phone, but Zach doesn’t remember seeing anything resembling a home phone at the house, so he’s willing to bet it’s a cell phone. Part of him tells him to dial it right then - and he isn’t even entirely sure why. To ask what else Chris knows? To ask if he saw anything strange? ….To ask if Chris is okay? But he doesn’t call.

Instead, he looks back to Chris’s book. Zach grabs it up off his desk and leans back in his chair, sighing as he opens the pages. He isn’t exactly sure where to start; he’s sure that any respectful reader would start at the beginning, reading the stories in the order that the author had so intentionally arranged them. But this isn’t a pleasure-read. This is a homicide investigation, and despite the fact that he’s interested in Chris’s work, his primary focus is on whether or not this book might tell him something that Chris himself has not.

Zach peruses over the first couple of stories. Chris certainly has an interesting and creative mind. One story details a ship as it sinks under the monstrous swells of the ocean, taking its crew down into the depths. Another is about a man who gets caught adrift in a raft in the middle of the Atlantic with no hope of rescue. But they get stranger as he goes on. Sea monsters, and storms, sailors drowning in the heaviness of fog, humanity faced against the callousness of the natural and supernatural. Zach has to admit, from what he’s skimmed so far, he quite enjoys Chris’s style. His writing isn’t overly flowery; it’s very direct and active and yet so vivid and raw that it can’t help but grab a reader’s attention. Were the circumstances different, Zach could see himself easily getting lost in Chris’s stories. But the circumstances aren’t different, and he can’t afford to get lost.

Most of the stories don’t really catch his eye - at least as far as their investigation is concerned - but he reads them anyway, the daylight steadily ticking away as he makes his way through the book. He’s only interrupted when Karl pokes his head into his office. Zach isn’t sure why, but at the intrusion, he’s quick to hide the book from view. Karl doesn’t seem to notice, telling Zach with a yawn that he’s heading home for the day. It’s only then that Zach glances at his watch, noting that the few remaining hours of the day appear to have passed him by.

Karl teases him, telling him not to sleep in his office again, and leaves on a brief laugh.

Zach knows he’s right - and he tells himself he won’t stay much later. But once he’s sure Karl is gone, he turns his attention back to Chris’s book.

Because there’s one story in particular, the titular _Whitecaps_ , that has caught his attention.

It isn’t a very long story, not compared to many of the others in the book, but its length isn’t important. It’s the subject that Zach is interested in. The story speaks from the point of view of a dying man. It opens with his vividly grotesque descriptions of his own body - maimed, broken, ripped, and bloodied, mere minutes from death. The story itself is of his final moments, his thoughts as the life fades out of him, his _lungs_ failing and filling with blood. And that alone is enough to hold his attention, mind darting back to the open book of human anatomy that had been sitting on Chris’s desk.

Zach reads the story intently. The man speaks of the whitecaps and the things that had come up from them. He talks of death… his death, his horrible death, and of the unspeakable, Lovecraftian-esque entities that had come from the foam of the surf and tides. Horrible, eldritch ghouls creeping their way up with the water to the land like ghosts that had crawled their way up from the depths.

It ends without ending, really, and Zach isn’t exactly sure how he feels. It ends only with the narrator’s fading vision, the sounds of the crashing waves and inhuman gargling beginning to overtake him. And Zach feels a deep-seated sense of emptiness and discomfort, re-reading the last line a couple of times as if it might give him more if he read it just a little more:

_“The water will take me, this much I know; the red of my blood in the whitecaps now, I can only pray that the breath will leave my lungs by then.”_

Zach exhales slowly, closing the book quietly and setting it back down atop his desk.  

He feels…. he feels a lot of things, and honestly, that’s the sign of a good author. But it feels like more than that. This feels relevant in more ways than Zach can calmly call coincidental. And yet… it can’t possibly be relevant. The story is frightening and horrific, as any good horror story should be. But this story is nothing but supernatural, oceanic horror, not grounded in anything real or concrete.

Their case is a murder, not a ghost story, and Zach _knows_ that… doesn’t he?

So why does he feel such a sudden, desperate urge to call Chris, to hear his voice, to ask if Chris feels safe?

He honestly shouldn’t, and yet Zach finds himself picking up his cellphone and dialing the phone number listed on the report.

It rings for a while, and Zach is half-ready to hang up, convinced that no one is planning on answering. But as he begins to drop his phone from his face, he hears the distinct sound of someone answering. There’s a little fumble on the line, followed by a rushed,

“Hello??”

Zach clears his throat, attempting to sound as collected as he can.

“Mr. Pine?” He asks gently.

“This is he.” Chris breathes into the phone. He sounds a little out of breath, and Zach has to wonder if he had to run to catch the phone before it hung up.

“Mr. Pine, this is Detective Quinto. We spoke yest-”

Chris cuts him off, his voice quickly becoming a bit more tranquil and welcoming.

“Yesterday, yeah, I remember. How are you, Detective?”

“Doing uh, doing well…” Zach lies, “Did I interrupt anything?”

Chris chuckles softly and Zach feels a twinge of embarrassment at how quickly the light sound of Chris’s laugh relaxes him.

“No, no. I was just getting Charlie’s evening walk in. Barely got to the phone in time.”

Zach pauses, because he doesn’t know how to say what he wants to say without sounding… odd or overly-concerned, like a detective someone has only known for a day shouldn’t be. But he wants to ask it anyway.

“Mr. Pine…”

“Chris,” Chris corrects him.

“...Chris. Why are you walking her this late?”

“It isn’t fully dark yet.” Chris replies softly, as if he kind of knows he needs to be more careful, but that’s just speculation on Zach’s part. Zach doesn’t know this man well enough to assume anything about how he speaks, what he means, or how he feels…

He wants to ask Chris if he feels safe, he wants to ask why the _fuck_ Chris is staying on that beach, given everything that’s been going on. And honestly, the fact that Chris is still there should make Zach _suspicious_ of him, not concerned, and yet… he can’t seem to help it.

“Um. I was just calling to see if you’d seen anything strange? Today? Or yesterday evening?”

It’s a lie, and Zach knows it. That isn’t why he called. But he still wants to hear Chris’s answer.

There’s a short pause on the other end of the line, and he hears Chris clear his throat quietly.

“Not really, I guess…” Chris mumbles half-heartedly, and Zach is almost positive that isn’t the truth. There’s a twist in his gut he desperately wishes would go away.

“Chris…” Zach starts, his voice low and concerned, “do you feel safe there?” he asks frankly.

There’s a long pause, followed by what Zach would swear is an uneasy sigh.

“...No. I… No.”

It sounds as if there was more that Chris wanted to say, but the simple “no” is more than enough for Zach.

 _Of course he doesn’t feel safe… who would after all that’s fucking happened there?_ Zach thinks to himself.

“Do you want to leave the area?”

Chris is quicker to answer this time, voice sure.

“No, I don’t.”

Zach doesn’t understand it, but the answer spurs nothing but worry in him: worry for Chris’s safety.

“Would you… feel safer with company or extra protection?”

It sounds like an offer - Zach is almost sure it’s an offer, though he isn’t at all sure why he’s even offering this in the first place. This probably isn’t smart, or safe. But something inside him tells him that this man is not only innocent, but there’s a danger on that beach that Chris shouldn’t have to face alone.

“What do you mean?” Chris whispers.

“Would you feel safer with someone there?” Zach repeats more steadily this time, and he hopes that his offer makes sense to Chris without him having to explicitly tell him that he will come to that house to keep him safe if he has to.

“...Yes…”

“Okay,” Zach starts, “I will head your way. If you’re alright with that, I mean.”

“Are you serious? But it’s getting dark…” Chris says with worry, and Zach doesn’t have it in him to ask why the darkness is enough to make Chris worry.

“I know, I can be there in 30 minutes or so.”

“You’d really do that?”

“...Yeah. Yeah, I will.”

“Detective,” Chris starts, and Zach doesn’t even think before he corrects him.

“Zach.”

“Zach... This might sound, I dunno, a bit crass, but why do you care?”

There’s a moment when Zach has to think, because he honestly doesn’t have an answer. He knows he needs to come up with something to tell Chris. He could say a lot of things: “because you might be an important witness”, “because I don’t want another body showing up on that beach”, “because I don’t trust you yet,”, but none of that is true.

If he’s honest, he doesn’t know why he cares. But he does, and he doesn’t have it in him to lie to Chris.

“I don’t know.” Zach sighs out instead. It isn’t much of an answer, but at least it’s honest.

“You don’t even know me.” Chris says with mild disbelief.

“You’re right - I don’t know you… But you deserve to at least feel safe…”

“...Zach.”

“I’ll be there in 30 minutes.”

It’s fucking _stupid_ to go, but something inside him tells him he should.

That being said, he hasn’t completely forgotten all sense and logic. He knows he should probably tell Karl of his plans to go to the bay, but he doesn’t know if he has it in him to explain it all to him. Zach can hardly make this make sense to himself, let alone to his partner, who demands logic and common sense down to the wire. It’s a good trait - a fucking great trait of a great detective - but not one that he’s prepared to deal with right now.

Instead, he shuts down his computer and packs up his bag, making sure to shove his copy of _Whitecaps_ into it, and heads out to his car, dialing the local Coast Guard on his cell phone as he does.  

He puts his car into gear as the guard finally answers. He tells them flatly that he will be going to Lithica Bay tonight for extra investigation and protection of a local, and that he expects their patrol to be aware of his presence and to look for any signs of distress.

They acknowledge his request, assuring him that they will pass the information on to the patrol boats. Before they disconnect, the guard makes sure to give Zach an emergency contact number for the patrol in case of an emergency.

After the phone call, Zach drives in silence, trying to ignore the rapidly waning daylight as he edges closer to the bay. He wants only to pretend that the rural area and the fading light don’t add an extra level of eeriness to this place.

The sun is all but gone by the time he gets there, the night sweeping over him as he pulls up as close as he can manage to Chris’s home. He isn’t entirely sure how to get to Chris’s actual driveway, and so he follows the only path he knows, parking a little ways down, mentally preparing himself to make the short hike in the darkness. He tries to ignore the fact that he parks as far from the actual water as he can manage, the thoughts of Chris’s story fresh in his head.

Zach exits his car steadily, eyes scanning over the beach some odd yards down away from where he stands. He can just barely see the waters, the light of the moon beginning to illuminate the area in a poor attempt to replace the sun. He doesn’t want to admit it, but he feels uneasy. His only reassurance at this point is the light of his headlights and the small, blinking green and red lights out on the water from the Coast Guard patrol boats.

He grabs his bag, double checking that he has his phone charger, and closes the door softly. Zach hikes as quickly as he can, racing with the lights from his car’s headlights. He knows that while on automatic, they will either go out when he locks the doors with the remote or when the lights time out - whichever happens first - and he can only hope he reaches Chris’s home before the lights switch off.

And he almost makes it. Zach makes it about two thirds of the way, feet steadily closing in on Chris’s home, before the headlights go out, bathing him in the darkness of the Bay. He stops walking when they click off, the sudden chill of uneasiness creeping its way up his spine. He knows he probably shouldn’t have stopped, though he can’t exactly explain why. A murderer isn’t going to jump out of nowhere, and even if the killer tried, Zach knows he has enough training (as well as a gun on his hip) to defend himself should it come down to that. But he’s sure the others had felt safe as well… And looked what happened to them.

Zach knows he should keep going, but he can’t help but look around. This place is so different in the dark. He can feel the cold of the sands through his shoes as he stands there, eyes panning across the black expanse of the ocean. The red and green lights are still out there, like blinking little beacons of safety... but the moon has a way of glimmering off the waves in that tries to paint the waves in white, and there’s a wholly unwelcomed feeling that settles in the pit of Zach’s stomach.

It’s only that feeling that spurs him forward once more, a little more speed to his step this time as he moves. Chris’s home feels so far from him, and the car equally far away in the other direction now, and he has to wonder if perhaps this wasn’t the right thing to do. He’s made stupid mistakes before - who hasn’t - but they didn’t feel like this…

But as he moves, suddenly, ahead of him, he sees the porch light of the cottage switch on, bathing its front in warm, yellow light. The front door opens, and Zach can see Chris’s figure standing there and beckoning him forward. At the sight of him, Zach quickly remembers why exactly he’d offered to come here in the first place - protection.

He picks up his pace a little, moving in a gentle trot, attempting to appear calm as he approaches Chris’s home. He doesn’t even try to pretend that Chris’s figure standing in the doorway, bathed in the warm light of the cottage, isn’t a welcome sight.

“You actually came…” Chris muses softly as Zach comes into the light of the porch, and Zach isn’t exactly sure why the sound of his voice is so reassuring.

This is a stranger. Someone he knows nothing about. Someone he would have no connection to were it not for the tragedy of death.

“Of course.”

Zach doesn’t step forward once he’s on the porch, waiting if only for Chris’s invitation. And Chris doesn’t take long to provide one, ushering Zach warmly past the front door to get the two of them out of the darkness. He tries his best to ignore the way Chris lingers in the door for a moment longer, staring out into the empty darkness.

Chris shuts the door quietly and Zach watches as he takes special care to lock it. Zach can only wait, not wanting to intrude into his house any more than he already is. Back in his office, this all had sounded well and good - noble, even - going to offer Chris a modicum of protection and reassurance if he wasn’t willing to leave his home. But now, as he stands in the front hallway, Zach wonders if this was even the right idea.

They stand there in silence for a moment, and the seconds that tick by remind Zach once more that Chris, so far, is nothing but a stranger to him. He wonders what they’ll even say to each other.

After another beat, Chris silently gestures forward, giving Zach an unspoken invitation to proceed further into the house. The place doesn’t look all that different from when he’d stood in it the day before yesterday, but there’s a bit of a different feel to it this time. It feels like a home, and Zach isn’t quite sure if that’s simply because he finds himself now as something resembling a guest in this home, rather than an investigator.

He walks into the living room, Chris following close behind him. The first thing he notices in the large German Shepherd lounging lazily on the couch. Zach can’t help but smile at her. Whether he likes to admit it or not, he’s always had a soft spot for dogs. Chris seems to sense it too, whistling for his pup to get down and walk over to the two of them for a proper introduction.

She gets off the couch lazily and saunters over towards Chris, plopping down to sit next to him. Chris shoots a small grin at her and pats her head.

“This is Charlie.” Chris says with another pat, and Zach simply smiles and nods. “You can pet her if you want. She’s nothing but a big, ol’ lovebug, this one.”

Zach doesn’t wait, reaching out to the dog as she sniffs his hand and gives him a brief nudge with her nose.

“Please, have a seat if you’d like…” Chris offers, gesturing towards the coach. And Zach is more than happy to take him up on the offer, even happier when Charlie comes to settle down by his feet.

“Where’s your partner?” Chris asks him calmly, and Zach wonders for a moment if he should lie and tell Chris that Karl just had some other things he needed to take care of. But something in him tells him to just tell Chris the truth - that he had come here on his own, unbeknownst to his partner.

Zach shrugs.

“Well, to be frank… I’m kind of… here on my own tonight. A free agent, so to speak.”

“That so?”

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t expect you to actually come,” Chris breathes out on a sigh, reclining back a bit more in his chair. He props his head up on his hand and shoots Zach a small smile.

“Yeah, well… You said you didn’t feel safe, and frankly, I don’t blame you. You said you’d feel safer with company or extra protection, so… here I am; company and extra protection.”

Chris chuckles shortly, eyes never breaking their focus on Zach. They don’t speak for a moment, and Zach wonders if perhaps this is when he should at least attempt to make small talk. But again, he’s never been particularly good at these sorts of things, so he thinks that maybe it would be better if he just kept quiet.

The silence is interrupted a few moments later; Chris shuffles a bit in his chair, kicking off his shoes and tucking his legs up underneath him.

“I like you.” Chris says matter-of-factly, and the statement catches Zach a bit off guard.

“What now?”

Chris’s lips curl into a gentle smile.

“I like you, Detective Quinto. ...Zach…” Chris corrects himself playfully before he pauses. “There’s kindness in you… I hadn’t expected that.”

Zach doesn’t respond, if only because he doesn’t know what to say. He isn’t entirely sure what Chris means by “expected”, but he can’t pretend that Chris’s words don’t elevate him, even just the tiniest bit.

And as he sits on the couch, the silence ticking by between them, Zach realizes that he wants to speak. He wants to talk to Chris - he wants to talk with him as if it were easy, as if they had known each other before this. He wants the two of them to speak as though this weren’t a meeting brought together by death.

But it is what it is, and what it is is silence that Zach isn’t sure if it’s uncomfortable or not.

He sits on the couch and stares across at Chris’s relaxed figure, and Zach knows he has no idea what to say to this man. With his blue eyes and soft features, his unique taste in literature, and the kind and gentle way about him, Zach is sure that the two of them could find _something_ of a common ground between them. Zach just isn’t sure how to find it. He’s never been good at things like this.

In the quiet, all he can think to ask is,

“Why do you live here?”

And he hadn’t at _all_ meant for it to sound that brusque or bumbling, either.

Chris just kind of chuckles and shrugs.

“What do you mean?”

Zach isn’t sure entirely what he means, but he looks for something anyway.

“I mean, why do you live here? I guess maybe now isn’t exactly a great time to use as an example, given all the deaths and such, but even before that… this place has _never_ drawn in visitors… It’s just so… desolate and unpleasant. People don’t visit. So why live here?” Zach pauses for a moment, shrugging as he scratches along the line of Charlie’s ears. “No one lives here…” He mumbles, almost as an afterthought.

“Heh, I guess… I guess I moved here... for the peace…” Chris waits a beat, staring down at his lap before glancing back up to catch Zach’s eyes, “I grew up in New York. And it was always so… busy, so loud, and… overwhelming, you know? I just wanted something else. I just wanted something… that was my own, that was a little more peaceful.”

Chris pauses, as if thinking over his own words, before smiling again and letting out a brief chortle. Zach doesn’t have to question - the irony isn’t lost on him.

“Guess a little peace was too much to ask for, huh?” Chris says again, more to himself than to Zach, but Zach nods understandingly anyway.  

“If you don’t feel safe, why don’t you leave?”

Chris just shakes his head.

“Because this is my home…” Chris says it as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Zach doesn’t reply, but he supposes he understands. Chris waits for another moment, before he gestures idly at the spot on the opposite side of the couch by Zach, as if silently asking for Zach’s permission to sit there. Zach can only nod, watching as Chris stands, and settles down onto the cushions by him. He once again tucks his feet up under himself, resting his back against the arm of the couch so he can face Zach.

“I read your book.” Is the only thing Zach can think to say.

And that seems to catch Chris’s attention. His brow furrows a bit - not out of concern, more so out of curiosity.

“That right? Which one?”

“ _‘Whitecaps_ ’,” Zach replies.

“Oh? How are the reviews? My agent hasn’t filled me in yet and I’m always too nervous to go read ‘em myself.” Chris laughs, and that alone gets a smile out of Zach.

“Pretty positive from what I saw. But it was… it was _really_ good.”

Chris smiles again, and Zach is beginning to love the way that smile looks on him. And deep down, he wishes things could have been different. That circumstances could have been different… or better. That perhaps they would have met in some other way, because Zach can already feel himself growing comfortable with Chris. The feeling itself is more than a little frightening. He’s already let his guard down coming out here in the first place. Some might even argue that his guard was down the minute he caught himself feeling concerned for Chris’s wellbeing. But that’s an argument for another time.

Because regardless of the circumstances, this man… is someone Zach wishes he could know.

“Well, I’m certainly glad you liked it.”

Zach wants to pretend he hasn’t noticed the light hint of red on Chris’s face.

“It’s… it’s extremely raw.” Zach tells Chris frankly, “How did you come up with some of those stories?”

Chris shrugs, gaze looking away from Zach, moving idly in the direction of the window pane that looks down across the blackened ocean.

“Dunno. Just the inspiration of a sleep-deprived mind, I suppose.” is all Chris says, his voice suddenly a bit absent.

Zach pointedly doesn’t follow his gaze out the window. He feels like he should abandon the topic all together.

**::**

He and Chris talk for a lot longer than he had expected. Zach hadn’t exactly had a “plan” in mind when he had first come out here, but he sort of figured that he would come in, take post on the couch while Chris slept, and act as lookout in case something - no, some _one_ , Zach reminds himself  - tried anything.

And yet they talk for hours - keeping the darkest hours of the evening at bay just outside the windows.

They talk about Chris, Zach asking questions about his life in New York City, and Chris returns them all in kind.

They talk about Zach and what it was like growing up in Lithica, and how there have been so many times when he’s thought of simply packing up and leaving.

“Why?” Chris asks him curiously, and Zach can merely shrug.

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I’ve been here my entire life… maybe it’s the kind of work I do. But once in awhile, something itches inside me and tells me to just _go_.”

“Maybe you will someday.”

“...Yeah, maybe.”

“What about your family?” Chris asks softly, his words stifled by the soft touch of a yawn.

Zach holds back his own yawn, feeling the evening hours begin to creep over him.

“No family left, really.” There’s a look of concerned curiosity on Chris’s face, and Zach wonders why he feels so ready to tell Chris about himself, why he feels so willing to open up to this man, this stranger, who had been a suspect not even 48 hours before. And yet, the ease he feels with Chris is undeniable. All it takes is a glance of those bright blue eyes in his direction, and Zach feels like he could tell this man anything.

Zach shrugs, attempting to pick up where he had paused.

“My dad died when I was younger, ya know? After that it was just my mom, my brother, and me. She raised us on her own till we were grown… But when I was about 20, she uh, she found out she had cancer. She fought it for a long time, you know… a long time. Traveled to see all the best doctors we could find or afford. And she fought it hard. Took about… five years or so before, well, you know...”

Chris reaches out and rests his hand tenderly on Zach’s arm, and Zach realizes this is the first real physical contact the two of them have had since they met.

Zach has never really been one for physical touch, and yet, beneath the warmth of Chris’s hand, he feels at ease.

“I’m so sorry,” Chris says, and the sincerity in his voice is palpable.

Zach offers him a sad smile and shakes his head.

“It’s okay. I mean, it was years ago. I’ve… I’ve done my grieving. I’ve mourned her. Now, I just remember her for the wonderful woman that she was.”

Chris smiles at that, and Zach doesn’t even try to ignore the way Chris’s thumb gently rubs across the skin of his forearm.

“What about your brother?”

“Joe… He never liked Lithica, not that I blame him… So after mom died, he left. Moved to California.”

“Heh, his loss.” Chris muses.

Zach doesn’t reply, and for a moment, he wonders if Chris is talking about Joe’s loss of Lithica or Joe’s loss of Zach.

There’s a quiet lull in their conversation, if only because Zach isn’t sure how to respond. It would seem Chris isn’t entirely sure either. Zach spares a glance at him, watching as Chris twiddles his toes, curling them up underneath himself a little bit more, and stares at the floor. Zach wonders what he’s thinking - wonders if he’s trying to think of the next thing they should talk about, like Zach is.

Zach doesn’t have to wonder for long though. Chris doesn’t look up at him, but his voice remains casual.

“What about a wife? Girlfriend?”

Now that certainly gets his attention. Zach jerks his gaze towards Chris, who simply looks back at him innocently. He looks away once more and shrugs with a lighthearted chuckle.

“Ahh, no. No wife, or girlfriend.” Zach says, turning his head away a bit. He wonders if he should even divulge the reason as to why he has no wife or girlfriend. It isn’t exactly easy in a town like Lithica to explain that the reason you aren’t married is because you never really had an interest in the opposite sex. Lithica, as a town, is a good place, and many of the people are kind-hearted. But, it’s never been all that progressive. It’s an old town, with often times even older views.

It wasn’t that he felt unsafe here - because frankly, the town isn’t quite _that_ backwards - but it certainly makes things a hell of a lot easier to just avoid the word “gay” all together.

Zach spares another glance at Chris; he twirls his fingers along the arm of the couch, watching his own movements with intention, as if avoiding Zach’s gaze.

He waits another beat before he speaks again.

“What about... a boyfriend?” Chris asks softly, still not looking up at Zach.

Zach lets out a breathy laugh and shakes his head.

“Heh, no. No boyfriend.” He pauses for a moment, watching as Chris nods slowly without looking up, before he continues, “But I have had a few in the past.”

Zach watches the corner of Chris’s lips quirk upward.

“What about you?” Zach asks him.

Chris shakes his head, but doesn’t drop his smile. He clicks his tongue, beckoning his pup over to him. She rests her head gently on his lap, closing her eyes as his fingers come to scratch behind her ears.

“Nope. Just me and Charlie out here.”

Zach doesn’t know why, but those words seem to soothe him.

**::**

The two of them talk for god knows how long. They talk long enough that when Zach finally starts to pay attention to the time, he realizes exactly how late it is. It’s half past 2 in the morning by now, and judging by both his and Chris’s yawns, it’s probably time for them to retire.

Zach isn’t entirely sure what it is - because this whole thing is frankly, quite strange, to say the least - but he feels as if he and Chris have never been strangers. And yes, he knows that’s a fairly stupid and cliche thing to think - but there’s something between them, some soft bond that Zach isn’t completely ready to take on yet. And yet, he feels so comfortable. He feels at ease, sitting on this stranger’s couch that just two days ago he had sat on, asking questions about an alibi.

He doesn’t mind telling Chris about himself, or hearing what all Chris has to say. He doesn’t mind it at all.And part of him, some small, niggling part of him, wishes that their circumstances had been different. He wishes that maybe he had met Chris at the bookstore instead - some chance meeting, some silly thing where they’d both reached for the same book, and then bonded over their love of the author or genre.

But the circumstances aren’t different, and Zach knows it’s a bit silly to dwell on it.

In the quiet that has fallen between them, Zach lets his eyes meander to the window, staring out to the ocean that waits for them outside. It’s difficult to see out into the darkness from the lights of the house, but the moonlight is still there, and Zach could swear the ocean’s surface seemed more lively now, more turbulent, flashes of white bouncing off the peaks and crests in ways he feels outright uneasy looking at. And so he turns away, letting his eyes rest on Chris, who’s now lying flat on his back on the floor, Charlie at his side with her head on his stomach.

Chris looks tired, and to be honest, Zach is too. But as Chris lets out a yawn, he finally speaks up.

“You can get some sleep if you want,” Zach starts, “It’s pretty late. I’ll keep a watch on everything.”

Chris lolls his head over to stare up at Zach on the couch, a soft, serene smile on his face. He stretches and groans, and Zach tries to ignore the way his shirt hikes up on his stomach, small tendrils of hair and olive skin revealing themselves.

“Yeah, that’s probably best. I’m pretty beat.”

Chris stands slowly, having to steadily ease Charlie’s heavy, sleepy head off of him, and meanders into another room. Zach can only assume that it’s his bedroom. Once he’s out of sight, Zach adjusts himself a bit on the couch, attempting to get a little bit more comfortable for the remaining hours of the evening. But much to his surprise, a moment later, Chris reemerges holding a couple of pillows and a few blankets.

Zach furrows his brow, watching as Chris plops a pillow and blanket on the floor, before handing one of each to Zach as well. Zach can only stare at Chris curiously as he begins to settle down onto the floor, Charlie already ready to curl up at his side.

“Don’t really wanna stay in my room alone,” Chris mumbles idly, hands spreading out the blanket a bit.

Zach pauses and glances at the pillow and blanket in his lap.

“Well… at least let me sleep on the floor…” He mumbles in protest, moving to stand up, but Chris just shakes his head.

“No, please. I insist. I sleep here a lot, don’t fret.” Chris shuffles himself down under the blanket. He reclines back, resting on his back, one hand under his head, as he turns to look at Zach easily. “Plus, the rug is soft.”

As if to emphasize his point, he threads his fingers through what Zach can only assume is shag.

“...Are you sure?”

Chris smirks at him.

“Of course.” He sets his hand atop Charlie’s head, which rests once again on his stomach, “I wouldn’t offer if I weren’t sure.”

Zach doesn’t respond, but he smiles instead, shucking his shoes off and spreading out the blanket a bit and setting the pillow by the arm. He watches as Chris’s eyes shut slowly, a calm smile on his face as he strokes his dog’s head tenderly.

“I’ll try and uh, stay awake,” Zach says.

Chris just shakes his head, eyes not bothering to open.

“It’s okay. It’s late. Plus…” His eyelids flutter open, catching Zach’s gaze briefly, “I feel better just knowing you’re here anyway.”

Zach looks down and nods softly.

“Alright.”

He does his best to hide the smile that threatens the corners of his lips.

**::**

When Zach wakes, he isn’t sure what time it is. But it’s definitely still dark outside - the only light the gentle glow of the table lamp that illuminated the living room when he had dozed off. Through bleary eyes, he scans the room. The first thing he sees is Chris, curled up on his side on the floor, Charlie sprawled out at his side. And Zach smiles.

He pushes up slowly, glancing around for his phone. He finds it lost in the blanket, and he clicks it open if only to check the time.

It’s only 4 am… He must have only slept for a couple of hours.

Zach sighs and relaxes back down on the couch. There are a couple of hours yet till he needs to rejoin the living, a couple of hours until he has to leave the unexpected comfort of this cottage by the sea, until he has to leave Chris’s side. So he figures he might as well enjoy it.

He nuzzles down into his pillow, eyes falling shut again slowly. He can just about feel the heaviness of sleep beginning to wash over him again when he hears _it_.

His eyes snap open at the sound, his breath hitching in his chest.

There’s a moment when he can only stare - eyes unfocused, out into the middle distance, looking at nothing, just waiting for the sound again.

He doesn’t dare move when he hears it once more.

 _Inhuman_ , is all he can think. _It doesn’t sound human_.

It sounds distant, but not too distant, close enough to send a chill up and down his spine, though perhaps not in the house. Zach tries to control his breath, lying still on the couch, his eyes trained on nothingness.

It gurgles, like the sea, but more visceral and corporeal. Zach feels as though the sound could touch him if it wanted to. It hisses and splashes in the distance, like lungs choking on water, gasping for breath, but this sound is not one that lungs would ever make.

It’s on the beach, that much Zach knows, far away and yet not fucking far enough. He hears thunks on the wet sand, the hisses and crashes of the ocean’s waves, and the raw, feral churning of the surf, and he knows this isn’t normal. Zach knows this isn’t how the sea should sound.

He doesn’t know when it happens, but he can feel his own body begin to quiver a bit in the presence of the noises. He wants to stand, to grab his gun, to look out the window because whatever is out there _has_ to be human, or at least… it has to be an animal of some kind. There’s no other option. He needs to make sure that there’s no one on the beach right now, that no one is in danger, but he cannot make his body move.

In the quiet of the house, he tries to calm his breath, but it shakes past his lips nonetheless. It’s only at the sound of another shaking sigh that his eyes dart down to the floor. Chris lies on his side still, not having moved, but his eyes are wide open and focused on Zach. He faces away from the window, and Zach wonders if perhaps he’s just as nervous to stand and look out as Zach is.

Charlie still lies beside him, but her eyes are trained over his the line of his hip, focused intently on the window to the outside. She doesn’t make a sound, but she looks ready to lunge at the slightest sign of a threat.

Chris exhales another shaking breath and Zach can just barely see his lips move in the darkness.

“...I hear it too.”

Zach swallows thickly, willing himself to reply.

“It’s… it’s just the waves.” He mumbles in return, and he can taste his own insincerity on his tongue. Chris shakes his head.

“It’s not the waves.” Chris whispers. “Don’t listen to it.”

Chris steadily brings a hand to cover his ears, and Zach hears as Charlie begins to whine a bit, her body tensing up, fur rising. Zach can only do as Chris does, if only because he has no other idea of what he should do.

That’s not true though - he should probably get his gun, he should probably alert the coast guard members that are currently patrolling this coast. He should probably do _something_ to actually protect the man he’d come out here to protect in the first place.

And yet, somehow Zach knows that it would be pointless. Something tells him that his gun will be useless, that the coast guard can do nothing, and that the best protection he can offer Chris is to simply be here like he’d wanted. And so he lies there, gaze focused on Chris, whose eyes are squeezed shut as he tries to block out the noise. Zach can only curl his arms in a poor attempt to wrap his pillow around his head. It muffles the world around him, but not nearly well enough. And so he watches Chris as the sounds persist, distant, and yet so close to them, as the waves themselves sound as if they might come to life and swallow them whole.

And he swears, he fucking _swears_ , he could hear the faintest hint of growls coming from the ocean.

**::**

At some point in the late evening hours, Zach doesn’t exactly know how, but he must have drifted back to sleep again. When he wakes, a few errant beams of sunlight are piercing the windowpanes, lighting up the living room in gentle, bright rays. He lets his eyes pan the room, coming to rest on Chris’s figure on the floor. He’s asleep as well, hands still curled around his ears, Charlie now sitting up at his side. Zach can feel the relief settle into his chest; he hasn’t been this thankful for the sunrise in a long time.

Zach sits up a bit on the couch, quietly shucking the blanket off of himself so he can stand. He stretches gently, eyes glancing down at his now wrinkled clothing, and sighs. He lifts his gaze, staring out the window across from him.

The ocean is calm. It’s grey, as it always is, but it’s calm now.

And more importantly, it’s quiet.

Zach looks back down at the figure on the rug. Chris still seems to be asleep, and Zach wonders if perhaps he can go out and get a quick look around the beach before his… acquaintance? companion? …wakes up.

He slips his shoes on quietly, Charlie watching him as he does so. He shoots the pup a soft look, patting her head as he steps past quietly, heading towards the front door.

Zach opens it carefully, doing his best not to make much noise, and steps out into the daylight. He can smell the salt of the water, feel it in the breeze. The sun is out, but the rays only peek through the clouds when they can, and Zach figures that’s a lot more than one can hope for on a beach like Lithica.

He gives himself a moment, letting his eyes gaze across the landscape before him. It’s nothing he hasn’t seen already, at this point. Just from his cursory vantage point, he doesn’t see anything that catches his eye. The beach looks like a beach - the sands grey and tan, as they always should be, the water repetitive and unsurprising. Zach sighs and begins to stride along the front path of Chris’s home, down towards the grey and tan sands of the beach.

He walks the length of the beach as far as he feels is necessary, perhaps only a half to three quarters of a mile away from Chris’s home, and back, but he finds nothing. And without the eeriness of the night, without the panic of unexplained noises which were in reality probably just the ocean’s swells, this beach appears as normal as it ever does.

Without the blackness of the night, the hiss of the water is just the crashing tide, the thunks of the wet sand his own footsteps, and he can feel a bit of logical calm returning to him.

He’s not particularly happy about it, but the fact of the matter is that there’s nothing on this beach. The fact of the matter is that after two consecutive deaths, and after spending the evening with the only person who even resembled a suspect in this investigation, Zach had awoken to nothing. No deaths, no fresh bodies, _nothing_.

Zach sighs, hanging his head a bit as he steps back from the water. He doesn’t want to think of Chris as a suspect again. But as an investigator, this sticks out.

Then again… the beach _was_ closed to the public last night. No joggers showing up before the sun was up, nobody running down along the beach hoping for a late night swim. No one around to lose their life.

Except for Zach and Chris, that is.

He turns his head, glancing back at the cottage that rests in the distance.

If Chris had wanted to hurt him, he probably could have. But something inside him just tells him that Chris isn’t who he’s looking for.

Chris isn’t a killer. He doesn’t know how he knows it, but he does. He’s dealt with a lot of fucked up men and women - the moral-less, the sociopaths, the heat of the moment murders, the exacting killers, the sloppy gang violence - he’s seen a lot of things during his time on the force… And something inside is telling him that this is _different_.

Plus, Zach clearly remembers the look of fright and uneasiness on Chris’s face last night. And whether those noises were the ocean, amped up by late night confusion and paranoia, or if they were… something else… the look of fear on Chris’s face was undeniably real.

Chris is scared to be here.

Zach takes one last look out at the ocean - the rhythmic and predictable ocean - before he turns back to head to the cottage.

**::**

When he steps back through the front door, he can hear that Chris is already up and moving. He also tries to ignore the fact that he feels oddly comfortable walking into the home of this person he hardly knows. Zach shakes his head, shutting the door behind him softly. He doesn’t announce his presence, hoping that the sound of the door opening and closing, and the sound of Charlie running to him might be enough.

Zach also tries to ignore the fact that this feels like it could have been his life, perhaps if things were different. He thinks back idly to his wayward thoughts of chance bookstore meetings, alternate timelines in which he got to know Chris without being shrouded in death and mayhem. He can’t deny the warmth that spreads over him as he pets Charlie’s head and smiles at her before glancing around to look for Chris.

Zach walks steadily into the living room, where he finds Chris slowly folding blankets and stacking pillows on the couch in silence.

“Hi,” Zach says softly, watching as Chris’s eyes dart up to meet his. Zach doesn't miss the momentary look of fear that shines in Chris’s eyes, before it’s quickly replaced by familiarity and relief.

“...Hey.” Chris replies, a gentle smile spreading to his lips. “Thought maybe you’d left.”

Zach shakes his head ‘no’.

“Just went to have a look around the beach.”

Chris furrows his brow before nodding slowly in understanding.

“Find anything?”

“No… Nothing.”

“...That’s good, then. Considering... “

Zach doesn’t miss the pause in Chris’s speech. But he says nothing, not wanting to be faced with acknowledging the atrocious sounds he and Chris had woken to in the late hours of the night. But he sees the look of worry on Chris’s face.

“Zach. You heard it, right? You remember?”

“...I have to get back to the office.” Zach mumbles, striding towards the wall to unplug his charger and grab his bag.

“Zach, please…” Chris pleads, hand reaching to grab Zach’s bicep, “Tell me you… tell me you remember. Don’t pretend you didn’t hear it.... I know you did. I saw your face last night...”

He breathes out slowly, letting his gaze rest on Chris’s concerned face. He doesn’t want to lie to Chris - because of course he fucking _heard_ it last night. But who knows what the hell it was that he heard, it could have been anything, and he doesn’t want to stoke any unnecessary panic in his companion.

“I… Yes, okay, I heard… I heard _something_ , yeah. But I don’t… I don’t think it was anything to worry about.”

The lie tastes bitter on his tongue, and he sees the slight hint of defeat that lines Chris’s features. Chris’s eyes, those bright blue eyes, look away quickly, fingers releasing Zach’s bicep hesitantly. He inhales slowly and sighs, nodding half-heartedly, but doesn’t reply.

“I have to go.” Zach mutters, stepping away from Chris. And Chris simply nods. Zach manages a few steps out of the living room before he hears Chris’s soft footsteps padding behind him quickly.

Zach’s almost to the door when he feels the hand on his shoulder. It isn’t forceful, but it implores him to stop. He pauses, and turns slowly. Chris’s hand slips from his shoulder to his bicep, but doesn’t let go. He meets Chris’s eyes - which look so uneasy, so unsure, and Zach wishes he knew how to make that look leave those beautiful eyes. But he’s never been good with things like this.

“Zach... “ Chris asks him uneasily, “Zach, will you come back?”

Zach’s brow furrows softly, unsure of what exactly Chris is asking him. Chris seems to sense it though, voice quick to clarify.

“Will you come back… tonight?”

“I…” Zach stutters, unsure of what to say. _Of course I will?_ It’s what he wants to say, and yet he doesn’t know for sure. Coming last night was a fairly stupid move, and he knows he’s going to get hell for it when Karl finds out. But it felt like the right thing to do, the thing he should have done. Because this man, this man with eyes the color that the ocean should be, he’s not a killer. He’s afraid. And Zach doesn’t know why, but he wants to keep him safe.

“Don’t leave me here alone…” Chris whispers, and the fear in his voice is palpable. “Please…”

Zach doesn’t know what it is inside him that spurs the motion, but he finds his hand lifting to cup the curve of Chris’s jaw. At the feel of the skin and the coarseness of his beard, Zach feels sudden panic surge inside him. This is too intimate, too close a gesture for someone who is, frankly, no more than a stranger. And yet, Chris doesn’t seem to mind the touch.

“I’ll come back.” Zach says, his tone a promise. “Okay?”

“Okay.”

 

 


	4. 04.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 04

Once he leaves, he makes a quick detour to his house, for a quick shower and change of clothes. Without thinking, he grabs a second set of clothes, as well as his toothbrush, and tries to ignore the fact that he’s actually preparing (however haphazardly) to stay over at Chris’s house again. Items in hand, he rushes out the door to head to the department.

When Zach enters his office, he isn’t expecting to see Karl leaning against his desk, waiting for him. He startles a bit when he walks into his office, but calms quickly.

“Shit, Karl,” Zach startles, glancing at his watch as he shuts the door behind him, “It’s not even 8:00, what are you doing here?”

Karl shrugs and pushes up off Zach’s desk.

“I got an interesting call from the Coast Guard this morning.”

Zach pauses and sighs, remembering that he had meant to get back in touch with them earlier this morning to let them know he was okay.

“That right?”

“Yeah. They said you went to the Bay last night... on your own.”

There’s a moment when Zach wants to deny it, if only for the simplicity. But he and Karl have been partners and friends for long enough that at this point that he knows Karl will see right through him. There’s no point in lying.

“I did.” Zach states matter-of-factly.

“What the fuck for??”

“I went to Chr-” Zach stops himself, “to check on Mr. Pine.”

“...Are you kidding me?”

He pushes past Karl, moving to the other side of his desk and setting his bag down.

“No, Karl, I’m not.”

“Why in the everliving hell would you do that?”

With a frustrated huff, Zach plants his hands on his desk, glaring up at his partner. He isn’t sure if it’s the fact that he’s tired, or the fact that he doesn’t feel like he should have to explain this, he doesn’t much feel like playing nice about this.

“Because I got in touch with him, and he said he felt did not feel safe. Keeping people safe is kind of the goddamn core of my job, and of _yours_ , Karl. And _that_ is why I went.”

“Okay, but why in the fuck did you go _alone_? Do you have any idea how irresponsible that was?”  

“It was a rash, last minute decision,” Zach admits. “But I wanted to make sure he was alright.”

Zach half expects Karl to question that, to question why in the hell Zach didn't just send a couple squad cars rather than going there personally. But he doesn't question it.

“Why didn't you say something to me?” Karl inquires instead. “What if something had happened?”

Zach lets out a breath and settles down into his chair.

“Nothing happened though, plus the Coast Guard knew I was there. They were on patrol just off shore.”

“How long did you stay?”

“I left this morning.”

Karl’s eyes widen a little, his brows cinching.

“You stayed the ni- are you out of your damn mind? What if this guy is our perp?”

“But he isn't!” Zach half-shouts in return, leaning forward in his chair to close the short amount of distance between him and Karl across the desk. The firmness in Zach’s voice is palpable, and even he isn't sure where the certainty in his response came from. But deep down, he knows Chris isn't who they're after. He just doesn't know how to make Karl understand.

He heaves a heavy sigh and reclines back in his chair. His hand lifts to his head, fingers digging into his temple.

“Chris’s alibi checked out, Karl. You know that. And Alice freaking verified that yes, he was the one who called the first body in. I have the damn report.”

“That may be true but that doesn't mean that what you did was okay. It was stupid as shit.”

“Fair enough, but listen to me. I talked to this guy, and he opened up to me a bit... And I don’t know why, but I feel goddamn certain he isn’t involved. I think he knows something more than he's let on, but I think he's scared, and think he's just as much in danger as any of those other poor SOBs.”

“So why doesn't he leave?”

“He doesn't want to.”

Karl gestures his arms out as if to say _“See? That's fucking suspicious.”_ but Zach doesn't acknowledge it.

“It's his home and he doesn't want to leave. We can't exactly force him out, anyway.”

“So the fuck do you want to do?”

Zach shrugs and rubs his temples again.

“I dunno… I told him I would back tonight to check on him, so that's a start.”

“ _We_ will go.” Karl says without missing a beat, but Zach stops him just as fast.

“No, Karl, _not_ we. Me.”

Karl eyes him with a look that Zach knows all too well, a look that asks “ _Are you freaking kidding me?_ ”.

“I’ll check in with you and let you know I’m okay. I promise. And I will tell the Coast Guard that I plan on being there again tonight. They’ll be around to keep an eye on things.”

Karl sighs in frustration and crosses his arms over his chest.

“Did you at least get any information from this guy?”

Zach can only give him a halfhearted shake of his head.

“...Not really. No new bodies this morning, which… is good, I guess, but it also doesn’t help us…”

“Why do you think he knows more than he’s letting on?”

“Just a feeling, I suppose…” Zach mumbles, silently thinking of the stories in Chris’s book. Something tells him not to mention the book, though... “I dunno. He seems… scared, Karl. Not just about what’s been happening, but scared to tell me about it.”  

“Like someone’s threatened him to keep quiet?”

Zach shakes his head,

“No… I don’t think that’s it.”

Karl doesn’t respond; he eyes Zach with a gaze that silently asks for Zach to tell him what else is running through his head. Zach is tempted to tell him, but deep down, he knows it wouldn’t make sense, wouldn’t sound rational. He knows it’s pointless to say anything, and yet…

“There’s something… not right about that beach, Karl…” He brings a hand to his mouth and drags his fingers over his mouth, hesitant but wanting to say more, yet not wanting to say anything else. He wants to tell Karl that this beach doesn’t feel right or normal, that he had heard sounds last night from it that he wishes he could forget, that he wishes he could convince himself were just the sounds of the ocean swells. But he can’t tell Karl that; hell, deep down, he wants to believe that it’s just his imagination reshaping normal nighttime noises into some dreadful boogeyman just because it can.

“Why do you care?” Karl starts curiously, “About this Chris guy, I mean. If he feels threatened or unsafe, then he should leave, and I’m sure you told him that. Or he needs to seek out proper police protection, not just you. So why is it just you?”

Zach shoots him a noncommittal shrug.

“I don’t know. Look, I told him that he should leave, okay? But if he doesn’t want to leave, we have to do our fuckin’ best to help fix this.”

“Yeah, well, this feels like it goes a tad past Protect and Serve, _Zach_. Especially for someone who’s holding out on information.” Karl emphasizes, and there’s a look in his eyes that tells Zach he’s already questioning Zach’s motivations. And yeah, so maybe it is a little past Protect and Serve. Maybe he is just a sucker for a boy with blue eyes. But at the end of the day, he’s still a fucking investigator, he still trusts his gut enough to know that this kid might be in in danger, but he’s certainly not dangerous.

He trusts his heart enough when it tells him _keep him safe_.

“Can you just… trust me on this? Trust me that, for now, this is what’s right to do. If shit gets worse, we’ll send in the cavalry and protect this guy. But I think he’s starting to trust me…”

 _And I’m starting to trust him_ , Zach thinks to himself, but doesn’t say.

Karl huffs out a long, slow breath and shrugs, shaking his head a little in resignation.

“Okay. Okay, if it’s what you think needs to be done, fine. But you have to check in with me, and for the love of god, tell me when you’re gunna do stupid shit like this so _maybe_ I can mitigate the damages.”

Zach just stares at him for a moment, until a small smile cracks on Karl’s lips. Zach huffs out a laugh - a little frustrated, a little desperate, a little amused - and he smiles back.

“Can do.”

Karl nods at him and turns to leave. He makes it halfway out of the door to Zach’s office before he pauses and turns back, craning his head back around the door to look at Zach once more.

“Zach?” He pauses, waiting for his partner to meet his gaze, “Don’t get attached…”

Zach doesn’t respond.

**::**

Zach spends most of the day going through old case files, forensic reports from the scenes, as well as Zoe’s autopsy reports. But as he stares at the photographs, and reads the clinical yet obscene descriptions of the state of each body and all their missing pieces, he begins to feel more comfortable with the fact that this is something… foreign to him. Something unreal, something someone might tell around a campfire at night.

He thinks of the sounds he had heard the night before - the inhuman, gutteral noises that no ocean waves could have made - and he knows it’s not rational, he knows it’s not logical, but he can’t help but feel that they’re related to the gruesome things he’s found on that beach, all the organs and limbs and pieces that have gone missing.

He doesn’t know how exactly, he can’t really pinpoint it or make any logical connection, but the feeling is still there…

Zach’s not entirely sure what spurs him, but he finds himself in the archives, trying to fumble through old police reports for keywords, for anything about Lithica bay, just to see if this fucking coast has a history of strange shit going on.

But he comes up empty…

The most he finds about the beach are things like old reports about stoners getting caught smoking up, or people found fucking on the beach, because the place has always been desolate as fuck. But there’s nothing like this, nothing like the horrific, gruesome things that have turned up on the shores, no reports of odd noises or weird nighttime activity.

The next thing he knows, he realizes that the day seems to have slipped by him. When he next checks the clock, he realizes quickly that the sun is already setting.

“Shit,” Zach mumbles to himself, fumbling to get the papers that are strewn across his desk reorganized. He needs to go back to the fucking bay, but after what all he’d heard last night, and the odd feeling he’d felt when he’d first arrived as the sun was setting, he isn’t all that keen on going down there after dark.

But he needs to, and that much he knows. He makes a quick call to the Coast Guard, letting them know that he’d once again be out at the Bay, and makes a mental note to check in with Karl when he gets there.

He gathers the last of his things, once again making sure he has his phone charger in his bag, but as he stands, he feels his pocket buzz.

He fumbles in his pocket, yanking out his phone to see a single text from a number he doesn’t recognize.

Hesitantly, he opens it up.

_/Zach? This is Chris. Didn’t know if the # u gave me was a cell phone or not, but I figured I’d try… It’s dark now. Are you still coming tonight?/_

As he’s preparing to type out his response, a second text comes through.

_/Please let me know… That way I can be on the lookout for you. Dunno if it’s very safe coming after dark…/_

Zach pauses as he reads it, trying to quell the sudden nervousness that has sprung up in his stomach. He already had felt a bit of anxiety at the thought of making his way to the Bay after dark, but seeing it written out in front of him revives a sense of dread inside him. He waits for a moment before shaking his head, willing himself to type out a response.

_/Yes, I’m coming. About to leave the office. I will be there in 30 min./_

A simple “ok” is all he gets in return.

**::**

He drives to the coast without the radio on, doing his best to focus entirely on the environment around him. But it’s so dark out here, so wooded and black and empty, that he wonders if there’s anything to see or if he simply can’t see it. Zach knows it’s just the anxiety talking, coiling in his belly as he draws closer to the coast with every mile, until he finally reaches the break where the foliage ends and the sand begins. He parks in the same spot he had the night before, realizing that he still hadn’t asked Chris how exactly to get to his driveway. But he figures he made the hike the evening before, he can certainly do it once more.

Except that it was a modicum lighter outside last night - today he’s met with nothing but the darkness of a coast illuminated only by the headlights of his car.

There’s a moment when he simply sits in his car, hesitant to exit the illusion of safety that it offers him. _It’s just a beach_ , he tells himself. _It’s just a beach at night. You’re a cop, you’re physically fit and trained in self defense, you have a gun for god’s sake. You can survive a couple hundred yard walk to Chris’s (well-lit) home._

And yet the thoughts do little to reassure him.

Hesitantly, he turns the car off and opens the door as gently as he can. He steps out, foot pressing into the mix of sand, grass, and weed, almost ready to cross the line to where it becomes nothing but cold sand. Zach shuts the door just as quietly as he had opened, something inside him telling him not to disturb the quiet of this place.

He steps forward and away from his car, once again hoping for the light of his headlamps to illuminate the area enough for him. Squinting his eyes, he stares straight ahead into the blackness of the sea; the moon isn’t out tonight, and neither are the stars. He cranes his head to his right, eyes landing on Chris’s house - lit up like a lantern in the darkness - before turning his attention back to the water. He can hear it - the gentle, rhythmic crashing of the waves like they’re supposed to do - but there are no distinguishing features save for the glints of white that reflect the beams of his headlights.

Zach doesn’t know what spurs him to stand there, but he finds himself suddenly unwilling to move. He lets his eyes steadily adjust to the darkness, peering out at the ocean’s surface, listening, almost as if waiting for the sounds to change. But they don’t.

_It’s just the ocean…_

_It’s always just been an ocean._

With hesitant, careful steps, Zach chooses to stride straight ahead to the water rather than towards Chris’s home, approaching the water with care.

As he walks, he startles when the lights from his car suddenly disappear. He turns his head around, noting that they must have timed out. With a thick swallow, he turns his head back to the water, steadfast, and yet anxious as he attempts to keep the darkness at bay.

Zach bites his lip, ignoring the thoughts that tell him to turn around and go to Chris’s house (as if it might somehow feel safer), and presses onward. There’s only so far he’s willing to go, though. He stops himself some 10 or 15 feet from where the waves crash against the sand, just outside the line where dry sand becomes wet sand from the tides that reached there earlier in the evening.

And there he stands. He feels… an odd sense of vulnerability, standing here before the gaping maw of the world, feeling as if it stared right back at him. And yet he knows, he has to know, that the feeling is no more than darkness-induced paranoia doing its best to take over his reason. And so he stands. And looks. And listens.

Somewhere in the distance, he can hear waves bashing against the rockiest parts of the bay. Crashes and roars that might sound beautiful were the sun shining.

He doesn’t know how long he stands there, watching the sea until his eyes adjust to the darkness.

Suddenly, his eyes catch a glimpse of color: a blink of green and red lights just a little ways off shore, and Zach sighs a quiet sigh of relief.

It’s the Coast Guard, patrolling the area, as they said they would. If he looks hard enough, he can just barely make out the bright orange color of the base of their boat. He doesn’t know if they can see him, but just in case they can, he puts his hand up and waves to them to signal that he’s alright and aware of their presence.

They flash a quick light in return, and Zach smiles, the relief washing over him.

He takes a deep breath, letting himself just taste the salt. You know, he complains a lot about Lithica, and he complains a lot about this beach. It isn’t exactly everything he wants a beach to be - it’s haggard and unwelcoming, grey and never bright, but the ocean is always there, and deep down, Zach has always liked the ocean. Once in awhile, he likes to taste the salt, to smell the air, to feel it around him.

Maybe this place isn’t as horrible as he always pegged it to be. Maybe it just needs a fresh eye to appreciate it for what it is. Chris certainly seems to appreciate it…

Zach gets a little lost in his thoughts, staring idly out at the boat as it hovers in the general area in front of him. He’s just about ready to turn around and make his way to Chris’s home when he hears it.

That sound, that same fucking _sound_ and yet so different.

So close, so corporeal, and carnal.

He stops in his tracks, craning his head back to the sea. That same hissing, gurgle sounds out like lungs choking on desperate gulps of air and water, and a echoey, high pitched howl, like a shriek vibrating through the water.

Zach can feel the chill that ekes its way up his spine, jaw beginning to tremble as he turns to watch the water once more.

The Coast Guard boat is still there, hovering in the spot in front of him, and things seem oddly still. Body facing the water, he takes a step back, too nervous to let his gaze wander.

Suddenly, in the silence of the night, it _cracks_. The sound of carbon fiber and metal hull snapping. Zach gasps and stumbles back another step, watching as the blackened outline of boat in front of him appears to snap in half. Bouncing off the water, he just vaguely hears the echoing sounds of male and female voices shouting, followed by another _snap_ and _crack_ of the boat’s hull, and the splash of the water around it. In an instant, he watches as the boat suddenly disappears beneath the surface of the water, dragged down like goddamn toy, until all he’s left with is silence.

Zach waites and breathes in the awful stillness. Nothing comes back up.

Zach steps back once more, a shaky whimper leaving his lips as he stares at the water. His chest begins heave, breath suddenly panting out in uneven, frightened huffs. He fumbles for his phone, hidden down deep inside his pants pocket, but his fingers can’t find the dexterity enough to grab it. Instead he fumbles back.

The silence is suddenly not silent anymore. Churning and gurgling, like frothing water, distant, ghoulish sounds that shriek and growl, they resonate in his chest as if he were sunk in the water with that boat.

That’s when he sees it.

Grey and white. Dripping and unholy. Misshapen body and form, pasty and putrid in the night, it emerges from the surf with a sickeningly wet gurgle from what Zach can barely call its mouth. It’s hardly human… dragging itself through the surf, along the sands with long, lanky extremities Zach hesitates to describe as arms.

Zach whimpers and fumbles backwards on his feet, but he can’t tear his eyes away.

He knows it sees him through those black, empty holes on its head. Zach knows it knows he’s there. He should run, but he can’t seem to make his feet function, can’t seem to make his body obey the things his brain tells him he should do.

He can only waver backwards, eyes focusing as best they can on this thing.

He doesn’t want to say it glows, but there’s a certain brightness to it nonetheless. He tries not to look, but he just can’t help it.

It has a mouth with scraggled teeth, some sharp like fangs, the others dull and square… like a human’s. From its mouth protrudes a grey extension with something meaty and fleshy on the end of it, like a poor tongue had been stitched to it.

...Like a tongue… like a human tongue.

It gurgles at him, crawling along with its unnatural arms, with bloodied, human fingers sticking out from the end of it in some mockery of a hand that digs into the wet sand to drag itself forward.

It emerges further out of the surf, Zach’s feet barely moving beneath himself as he feels his body begin to paralyze with fear in this things presence. And he hears it, hears the air wheeze in and out of its body - wet and thick - like nothing should ever breathe.

He’s frozen - he can’t think, not with this thing that eyes him so intently hauling its way along the beach like some grotesque imitation of the human form. It’s only as the thing begins to push itself up, pulling what Zach can only attempt to describe as legs begin to pull up underneath itself so it can stand, that he feels the panic pool up in his chest.

With a sense of urgency, his legs begin to move, to try to carry himself as far away from the water as he can. But they won’t work - too clumsy, to paralyzed with fear to function how he needs them to. He fumbles in the softness of the sand, collapsing to his front. Zach rears himself over to his back, arms and legs attempting to crab walk backwards as he watches this thing raise up on its legs.

Backwards knees, a single, human foot laced onto one of its legs.

He can’t breathe.

In its chest sits a single, shredded up lung that attempts to inflate with each step it hobbles in Zach’s direction.

 _Run,_ he tells himself, _you have to fucking run_.

But his body won’t work.

 _Your gun…_ , he thinks again, hand fumbling to his waist for feel for his weapon. But his fingers can’t undo the snap of the holster, panic inching its way into his body like nothing he’s ever felt before this moment.

It isn’t human… it isn’t fucking human.

_You’re going to die…_

He tries once more, body fumbling as his arms and legs begin to flail and push against the sand, crab walking himself away from this thing as quickly as he can manage. He needs to stand, he needs to fucking run faster than he’s ever run before, and yet…

The horrendous sounds that spew from this creature’s mouth shake him to his core, and are drowned only by the sound of his own frantic heartbeat pounding in his chest.

But there’s a noise in the distance too, from somewhere behind him. Harsh and focused, it repeats over and over until his ears can finally focus on it.

Barking.

Angry, protective barking, and a human voice drawing closer and closer to him. His body doesn’t stop moving as he scoots himself further up the sands, but he hears it, a voice, calling his name, and the sound of an urgent bark that closes in on him.

In a blur, something flies past him - all growls and ferocity - and Zach realizes almost immediately that it’s Charlie. She snarls and bellows, and Zach watches as this… thing… seems to respond to her. It’s not much, but it does step back an inch as Charlie blocks its path to Zach.

The next thing Zach knows, there’s a voice in his ear, shouting his name, and a set of arms lacing under his own to haul him up to his feet.

“...-otta go!” he hears, as his ears focus in, brain immediately seizing back to the present. It’s Chris.

“Zach, come on!” Chris shouts again, arms still gripping Zach firmly and ushering him to run. “Let’s go!”

Once Zach is up on his feet, legs now moving, Chris doesn’t hesitate to grab his hand. He holds it tight and picks up his stride, dragging Zach along, forcing him to run faster. Somewhere behind him, he can still hear the wretched, wet wheezes and gurgles, along with Charlie’s deep, intimidating growls and barks. Shrill in his ear, Zach hears Chris whistle as he runs, beckoning Charlie to run to them and catch up.

She obeys in an instant, and before Zach knows it she’s at their side again.

The run to the house is a blur from their, and Zach’s mind doesn’t catch up with his body until Chris has shoved him past the threshold of the house, slammed the door, and locked every lock he has. Zach stands in the foyer, lungs heaving, body shaking, stumbling after Chris as he moves towards the living room. Zach watches through bleary eyes as he begins to close shutters and latch the windows.

Chris stops after the last one, moves into the other rooms, and Zach listens to the continuing sound of things closing and latching and locking.

It only takes a moment before Chris returns to the living room.

Zach knows he’s shaking. Standing in the middle of Chris’s living room, sand on his clothes, terror in his eyes, he can’t even begin to think about stopping the way his body trembles. But he certainly doesn’t miss the quiver of Chris’s motions too, the wide, blown pupils of his eyes, the nervousness and anxiety.

Chris steps up to him and places his arms on his shoulders - firm but soft, as if he wanted to reassure Zach as best they could.

“They… they won’t come to the h-house…” Chris stammers, and Zach seems to find his words them.

His voice shakes, but he speaks nonetheless.

“Wh-what…. what _was_ th-that?”

Chris stares at him blankly, nothing but empty fear and confusion in his eyes. He shakes his head nervously, lips in a firm line.

“I don’t know…”

That seems to do it - there’s a sudden life that flares inside of Zach, full of anger and confusion - and he doesn’t mean to, but he can’t help the way he lashes out. Before he can think, he’s closing the space between himself and Chris, physical instinct clicking in, arm pressed against Chris’s chest, he forces the man back against the wall. He meets Chris’s eyes with fire and confusion, words tumbling past his mouth.

“No, fuck you! What _was_ that?!” He demands again, faintly, he hears Charlie bark at his actions, but he can’t be bothered to care. She isn’t half as frightening as whatever the _fuck_ he just saw.

“I don’t fucking know!”

“Bullshit! What aren’t you telling me? Is this what that fucking book is about?!”

Chris shuts his eyes at the strength of Zach’s voice, and Zach instantly regrets his anger. But he’s fucking confused, he’s fucking scared, and he needs to know every goddamn thing Chris can tell him.

“I swear to god, Zach… I don’t know what they are…” Chris mumbles, voice shaking, and Zach is quick to release him.

He steps away, arm falling from Chris’s chest, and he feels the nervous shaking overtake him.

“Then what _do_ you know?” He whispers harshly, eyes locking with Chris’s once more.

“I…” Chris’s voice cracks and whether it’s from nerves or fear, Zach can’t be sure, “I know they won’t come to the house… They don’t…. they don’t come this far up.”

Chris pauses for a moment, before stammering once more.

“Not yet, at least…”

Zach pauses, staggering another step back away from Chris. He looks down at his feet and makes his way slowly to the couch. Chris follows uneasily; as Zach settles heavily onto the couch cushions, he looks up at Chris standing in front of him.

“You need to tell me… _everything_ that you know.”

**::**

“I don’t know what they are…”

Chris whispers absently from his spot on the floor. His legs are bent, pulled in close to his chest, as he stares off into the middle distance.

“I first started to notice that things were… off… maybe two months ago? It started really small… I started to hear things at night: weird, wet hissing and gurgles, things I tried to chalk up to just the sounds of the ocean. But they got louder, more persistent. Then there were… calls, I guess… Don’t know how else to describe them. High pitched shrieks, or deep bellows, like fucking whales or some shit. But it was different. It was un-fucking- _earthly_ , Zach.

“Charlie started to avoid the water. She wouldn’t go near it anymore… if we got too close, she’d bark and growl. And every night it felt like the noises got louder. They’d last longer, sound closer,” Chris stops, voice trailing off a bit.

Zach watches him expectantly, but Chris doesn’t continue.

“...And then?” Zach prompts him softly.

“I would… see things. Just. Glimpses, as the sun was setting, or when the moon was out. Movement in the water, glimmers on the surf that just shouldn’t have been there, like it wanted to come to goddamn life.”

Chris’s voice stops short once more, pausing to take a breath as he curls his face down and presses it into his knees. Zach waits a moment, almost as if he wants to give him just a second to collect himself. After a few more seconds of silence, as gently as he can, Zach prompts him once again.

“Chris?”

Chris lifts his face at the sound of Zach’s voice, and Zach can tell immediately that his cheeks wet. His eyes are red and full and frightened; that blue is harsh and tumultuous and anxious, and Zach feels something deep in his chest that tells him to comfort this man, to try and make everything okay. But he doesn’t move.

“And then I found the body,” Chris sighs. His voice is brittle and he pauses for a moment, sucking in a quick breath past his teeth, “and I just… I knew… I knew.”

Zach doesn’t even need to ask him to elaborate, already understanding that Chris means that he knew that body was related, in one way or another, to the sounds he had endured.

Just as he thinks of them, a low, wet groan calls out from the beach, and both his and Chris’s eyes fling to the closed off windows intently. Zach’s eyes - a little wide, a little frantic, terrified of whatever he might see if he could look just past those windows - focus hard, and Chris seems to do the same. The two of them wait in the silence of the house, listening for yet another call that he’s sure will come.

A gurgling growl calls out and it sounds distant and far away, and Zach is grateful for the illusion of space that exists between the two of them and whatever that _thing_ is that prowls the beach below.

He lets his eyes drop, falling to Chris, still curled on the couch, head craned around away from Zach and locked on the window. Zach would have to be blind to miss the way his body trembled.

Zach isn’t sure what spurs him - a desire to protect, or simply a desire to be closer to this man - but he scoots to the edge of the couch cushion and reaches an arm out, resting his hand gently on Chris’s shoulder. Chris startles at the touch, his gaze flings first to Zach’s face, then to the hand that touches him softly.

Zach squeezes his shoulder with as much reassurance as he can muster. He doesn’t expect for Chris’s own hand dart up to cover his own, gripping his fingers as if Zach were his last lifeline. He waits for a moment, letting Chris hold onto him, before he steadily scoots back on the cushions and moves a little closer to one of the arm, creating more space beside him. His hand leaves Chris’s shoulder, but Chris keeps holding it, and Zach uses that as best he can to coax Chris up.

It doesn’t take a moment before Chris follows his motions. He drops Zach’s hand and eases up to his knees, moving to sit on the couch as well.

He sits on the middle cushion, arm pressed flush against Zach’s own, but he doesn’t take his hand. Instead, he keeps his hands in his lap, and stares at them.

The sounds in the distance have quieted. And Zach isn’t sure what’s come over him, but he doesn’t hesitate to lift his arm and drape it over Chris’s shoulder, easing the other man closer to him, flush against his side. Chris hesitates, but moves into Zach’s warmth, folding into the curve of his side as if he were supposed to be there.

Zach doesn’t speak for a minute, just letting the two of them sit there in the silence, hoping that the silence will just stay silent. He prays to whatever deity might listen to him, that these things, whatever they were, might be done with them, done with the beach, done with it all. (As if a deity could even exist that would allow such atrocious things to exist in the first place…)

He knows it’s too much to hope for, but it’s all Zach fucking has.

In the distance, he hears the hissing, the gurgling, the guttural noises from throats that never got to be throats, and he knows they must endure the night. Chris presses a little more firmly against his side, and Zach feels the quivering breath that leaves his companion’s lips, and all he can do is hold him a little more tightly.

“Why didn’t you say anything? Why didn’t you… tell anyone what was going on?” Zach whispers.

Chris laughs sadly - breathy and uneasy - and lifts his head to stare up at Zach.

“...Would you or anyone have believed me?”

Zach doesn’t respond, because he and Chris both already know the answer.

Chris shakes his head a bit, gaze focused softly at Zach’s eyes.

“I couldn’t think of what to do… so I wrote. _Whitecaps_ was the last story I wrote for the damn collection. I had already sent it off to the editor a couple weeks before… It was ready for print. I called them last minute and demanded it go in, and demanded the book title change to _Whitecaps_ , too...” Chris licks his lips, and Zach watches as his eyes begin to shine, so wet and nervous and uneasy, but still locked in with his own. He doesn’t want to break this gaze.

Chris’s eyes feel like the only thing that’s separating him from the darkness outside this house, and Zach can’t bring himself to look away.

“I guess it felt like… if I wrote it, published it, that it would be like… talking about it. I thought… I thought it might help…”

The fear and desperation in Chris’s voice is palpable.

“Zach…” He whispers, and Zach can’t ignore the lack of space between them, “Zach, I’m fucking scared.”

He doesn’t know why he does it, he doesn’t know why his mind tells him this is what to do, but he can’t stop himself.

Without a word, his hand rests against Chris’s jaw, and he closes what little space there was between them.

The kiss only lasts for a second before Zach quickly comes to his senses, the fear and panic fading as he realizes he just kissed this man, this man who he’s only known for a number of days, this man who has looked to him for protection, and he feels his chest tighten. Zach breaks the kiss as quickly as he started it, breath hitching as he drops his hand from Chris’s cheek.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” he whispers, turning his head away from Chris to stare ahead.

Chris says nothing, and there is nothing but the blissful, dreadful quiet and the sound of their breaths, before Zach feels the tickle of facial hair and the press of soft lips against his cheek.

“Don’t apologize.” is all Chris says before scooting in to press himself a little more closely into Zach’s side.

**::**

The two of them spend the rest of the night in relative silence, but they never leave each other’s sides. It isn’t much of a night - sitting in the quiet, huddled on a couch, and hoping that the quiet would remain quiet until the sun decided to rise.

At some point during the night, Chris dozed off, head lolled softly against Zach’s chest. But Zach couldn’t sleep. He could think only of that _thing_ , it’s atrocious appearance, the horrific sounds it made, the way it staggered to him, its entire body a grotesque mockery of humanity.

He could think only of that boat - the way its hull had snapped and broken, the way the waves had swallowed it without any struggled, the way no sign of life had emerged back to the surface. He’d have to… call it in.

The anxiety, the fear, the terror that pooled inside him now clouds his mind, but he knows just one thing for sure.

Chris is innocent, he’s fucking terrified, he’s possibly in danger, and Zach has to get him out of here.

Zach waits until the morning before he stirs Chris. Chris needs the sleep (and frankly, Zach needs the sleep too, but that’s beside the point…). He waits until the light of day pushes its way through grey clouds, seeping gently in through the shutters until Zach felt they might be safe to leave.

He gives Chris a gentle shake until he rouses, lifting his heavy head and meeting Zach’s gaze with sleep-riddled and exhausted eyes.

Chris sits up as his eyes begin to focus, pushing himself up and away from Zach slowly without a word.

Zach doesn’t speak either, straightening up his spine and stretching. Leaning against the arm of the couch all night certainly wasn’t good to him, but the safety of the house and Chris’s form leaning against him made him reluctant to move.

His back cracks a little as he stands slowly and stretches. He does his best not to think of the fact that he had so carelessly let his lips claim Chris’s. No question, no permission, nothing more than a soft apology after it was already too late… Zach doesn’t want to think about it. It was inappropriate, to say the least, and Zach knows as much. It doesn’t matter that it felt right, that it felt good, that it felt like the last shred of safety the two of them had.

Chris stays seated on the couch, but stretches out as well, and Zach spares a glance back at him, before turning away again and striding hesitantly towards the still-covered windows. With an uneasy hand, he unhooks the latch and opens the shutters, revealing the still-grey, but illuminated with daylight beach outside.

From a cursory glance, it appears fine. Nothing on the sands, no bodies, no nothing. But as he glances to the ocean, it sinks in quickly that there are no boats in sight either. Zach’s eyes drop quickly, his head hangs, the horrid sound of the cracking hull still fresh in his mind.

A soft hand traces its way up along his back, and Zach doesn’t want to admit the amount of comfort it gives him.

“There’s nothing out there…” Zach whispers, not bothering to look back up or turn around to face Chris.

“There never is in the daylight… Except for the bodies… When they show up, at least.”

Chris’s voice is quiet and timid, and yet so present in his ears, and his hand still hasn’t left Zach’s back.

Zach turns around slowly to face Chris. He feels Chris’s hand drag from the small of his back as he turns, until it rests softly on his hip.

He should ask him not touch him like that. He should enforce the idea that his kiss last night wasn’t appropriate, that he’s sorry, that Chris shouldn’t touch him so intimately. And yet he doesn’t, he can’t, he doesn’t _want_ to. He needs Chris’s hands, he needs the modicum of support that the hand that cradles his hipbone gives him.

It’s not much, but Zach feels like it’s all he has.

And so instead, he sighs, and looks Chris in the eyes.

“I…” He starts, swallowing thickly, voice heavy in his throat, “I have to call in the boat that went down. They’ll need to do a search. I have to… I have to tell someone about this. This is beyond what I am equipped to deal with.”

Zach speaks as frankly as he can, because it’s the goddamn truth. He’s seen a lot death, dealt with a lot of sick people, but never in his life has he seen something like… like _this_. He hardly even knows what to call it. He doesn’t like admitting that something is beyond his reach, his understanding, his ability to help... but this is so far beyond him that he can’t even pretend to understand it.

A small, sad smile curls its way onto Chris’s lips and he shakes his head. Zach doesn’t miss the sad look of pitious understanding on Chris’s face.

“They won’t believe you…” He whispers, and Zach knows it’s true.

“I need to go…” Zach says hesitantly. Chris’s hand still hasn’t left his hip. Chris’s eyes drop as he says it, and Zach can’t help the way he cups Chris’s jaw and lifts his gaze back up. “Come with me, Chris.”

“...”

“Please… You cannot stay here.”

Chris shakes his head uneasily.

“But this… this is my home…”

“ _Fuck_ your home.” Zach tells him bluntly, “You are not _safe_ here. Come with me.”

Chris says nothing, and Zach doesn’t lower his hand.

He doesn’t mean to but his thumb drags gently along Chris’s cheek.

“I don’t want anything to happen to you.” Zach admits.

Chris breaks their eye contact, but doesn’t shy away from Zach’s touch. He shrugs uneasily.

“Why do you care, Zach?”

He doesn’t ask it facetiously, that’s the first thing Zach notes. It’s a serious question, and Zach isn’t even sure if he has an answer. He could say a lot of things that might make Chris believe him, might make him come with him, but Zach doesn’t want to lie to this man, and so he says the only thing he can think to say.

“I don’t know. But you matter…” Zach doesn’t say the “ _to me_ ” that he wants to say, “You matter. And…  and even if I don’t matter to you, your _life_ matters, regardless of _everything_ else. So come with me, do not stay here… _Please_.”

Chris doesn’t say anything for a moment, but his eyes lift and meet Zach’s once more, and he nods.

“Okay.”

**::**

Chris gathers his clothes and Charlie’s things, loading them up into his car. Zach watches him in silence, alternating his gaze uneasily between Chris’s motions and the sea that roars behind him. Once the car is loaded up, Zach nods at Chris, gesturing idly to his own car parked further down the beach.

“I’ll meet you at the main road?” Zach asks, hoping that there’s a common point where they can meet. Chris just nods.

“The driveway meets the road just a little ways up, so when you get to your car, back out and just head away from the beach about a quarter of a mile, I’ll be there.”

Zach shoots him a nod and moves to step away.

“Zach?”

“Yeah?”

“Where uh… where can I stay?”

“Um. Well,” Zach says on a slow exhale, hand coming to rub the back of his neck and head, “my place isn’t exactly big or glamorous, but you’re welcome there if you like… Or, there are plenty of hotels, we can put you up there.”

“...I’d rather not stay anywhere alone.”

Zach understands; if he’s perfectly honest, he’s not particularly ready to be alone either.

“Okay.” He says, “I’ll meet you on the main road.”

“Okay.” Chris replies softly.

Zach turns on his heel and starts down the path, ready to traverse the walk to his car as quickly as he can without running. But he barely makes it five steps when he hears Chris’s voice call out to him.

“And Zach?”

Zach stops and turns. Chris stands by the open door to his car, staring at Zach.

“Yeah?”

“...You matter, too.”

Zach doesn’t know if there’s an implied “ _to me_ ” on the end of that sentence or not, but he supposes it doesn’t really matter. He smiles a half smile and nods, turning back to head towards his car without another word.

**::**

Zach leads the two of them into town, towards his apartment, making sure to send a quick text to Karl to let him know he’ll be in shortly. They park side by side, and Zach leads Chris up to the apartment if only to drop off his stuff and to bring Charlie inside. As Chris drops his things on the couch, Zach asks him if he would be willing to come with him to the station.

He doesn’t know at all what he plans on saying, but he knows they at least need to _try_ and talk with Karl about… about whatever the _fuck_ it was they saw last night. And he knows that having Chris there, even as just a small support beam for his story, might at least help to get Karl to believe him. But Zach isn’t holding out hope.

Hell, he’s not even sure what they would do, even _if_ Karl were to believe their story.

He also knows he’s going to half to explained the downed Coast Guard boat. Though, honestly, at this point, he’s sure that the Guard is probably already aware that one of their patrol crews is M.I.A…

Zach sighs, watching as Chris sets his things down, trying like hell not to think about the sickening way the hull of that boat had snapped before his eyes, the distant cries of the three or four person crew as they were taken down beneath the surface of the water.

He doesn’t want to know why the water was so still, or why nothing had come back up.

He’s more than a little surprised when Chris readily agrees to accompany him to the station. They leave Zach’s home almost as quickly as they had arrived, driving to the station in Zach’s car in silence.

**::**

When Zach enters the department, he strides with a sense of purpose, Chris not a foot behind him. The first thing he sees when he approaches his office is Karl, a frantic look on his face. He approaches Zach quickly, seemingly uncaring (or perhaps unaware) of Chris’s presence.

“Zach, fucking _finally_. Coast Guard called this morning. They’re on an emergency search and rescue. Their goddamn patrol boat fuckin’ blipped off the radar last night in the Bay, and they-”

Karl’s words stop short as his eyes land on Chris, finally registering the other man’s presence. Zach glances over at Chris, then back to Karl, and nods at his partner.

“We know.”

Chris catches Karl’s eyes and nods solemnly. But Karl just furrows his brow, gaze snapping back to Zach expectantly, as if waiting for an explanation of some sort. Zach can only place his hand on his partner’s shoulder, ushering the two of them towards the privacy of his office.

“What’s he doing here?” Karl asks, gesturing briefly at Chris as Zach guides him towards the office.

“We need to talk, Karl.”

 

 


	5. 05.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 05

Zach tells Karl of everything he can think to relay. He tells him of the sounds they had heard the night before last, of watching the patrol boat snap in half like a toy and sink beneath the ways, of the thing that crawled from the surf, of the sounds it made, how he had seen its grotesque, horrific figure with his own two eyes. He tells him of the gore of the misshapen, human organs that had haphazardly filled its almost translucent figure.

And after he speaks, there’s a moment when Karl simply stares at him in the stagnant silence. It’s only after a couple of beats that his partner’s harsh words break the stillness.

“Have you lost your goddamn _mind_?”

Zach can only exhale slowly, trying to remain as steadfast as he can, because honestly, maybe he has lost his fucking mind. He _knows_ this sounds unbelievable, he knows this sounds fantastical and nigh-ridiculous, but it’s the best he can offer. Zach shoots Chris a look, before turning his attention back to Karl.

“Look, I know it sounds -”

“Fucking ludicrous.” Karl finishes for him, as though it were obvious.

“-unbelievable,” Zach supplements instead, “Okay? I know. And I don’t have an explanation, but I… I know what I saw.”

“You cannot seriously be asking me to believe this.”

“...He’s telling the truth,” Chris chimes in quietly, his voice timid but insistent.

“I’m not asking you to believe me, Karl, I’m asking you to trust me. I know… that this doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t even fucking make sense to me. But… but how long have you known me? You know I wouldn’t tell you this shit if it were the goddamn truth.”

Karl simply sighs, fingers lifting to rub firmly across his brow.

“So wh… what do you even want to do?”

Zach doesn’t respond for a moment, but he spares another glance at Chris, almost as if looking to see if perhaps Chris might have an answer too.

“I don’t know…” He tells his partner honestly. Because he doesn’t know what the fuck to do. He doesn’t even know if they _can_ do anything. “We’re in over our heads on this, Karl… A-and I, uh, I don’t know what to do.”

Karl doesn’t say anything, but he keeps his gaze locked Zach’s. Zach can see the disbelief, the hesitancy, and the confusion etched deep into his partner’s features, and all he can can is hope that will just _trust_ him.

After another few moments, Karl breaks his gaze with Zach, turning his attention to Chris. His stare is a bit cold and clinical, but Chris doesn’t waver.

“Are you still staying on that beach?” He asks Chris frankly.

Chris shakes his head.

“No.”

“I asked that he leave, for his own safety.” Zach supplies quickly on the tail end of Chris’s answer. That seems to shift Karl’s attention back to him and his partner nods solemnly.

“For the best then.” Karl starts. He waits another beat before sighing heavily, and he looks like he’s about to say something else, but he’s interrupted by the harsh ring of the phone before his words can even pass his lips.

Karl drags the receiver to his face.

“Urban,”

Zach and Chris can only watching, listening as a tinny voice on the other end of the line speaks words they can’t understand. But Zach doesn’t miss the slight twitch of Karl’s brow, the way his eyes widen ever so slightly.

“In, in half?… Yes. ….Yeah, we can. Okay. Okay, call me back.”

Karl hangs up the phone and sits in the silence for a moment.

“They found the boat.” is all he says.

“...And?” Zach demands.

“Broken in half, about 30 feet down.”

Zach wants to say something about how that’s exactly what he had said had happened, but he can see Karl’s mind racing beneath the furrowed lines of his brow. He can see the cold edge of disbelief fade to confusion and unsurity.

“What about the crew?” Chris asks softly.

“No crew…” Karl mumbles in return, turning to face away from him and Chris.

“Fuck, oh god…” Zach hears Chris whimper, and he doesn’t need to look at him to know the exact look on his face. It’s bound to be the same frightened, unsure one that seems to have carved itself onto his own.

“Okay,” Karl’s words shake a bit, but his shoulders straightened, and his voice calms before he speaks again, “Okay. We keep the damn place closed off. No public, no access at all. We’ll get the Coast Guard to restrict the waters.”

Zach nods firmly in agreement. Karl quickly turns his attention to Chris.

“That means you, too. No access. Not till we figure out what the fuck to do.”

Chris agrees without a single question, though Zach is sure he has plenty. Zach is sure there are million thoughts running through his companion’s head about the place he’s called his home for years now.

Zach wishes he could answer them, but he knows he doesn’t have any of the answers.

“And Zach?” Karl asks, regaining his partner’s attention, “We’re going down there tonight. We’ll take a squad, to be safe, but we’re going down there”

“What?” Zach asks, and Chris is quick to follow up.

“What? No! You can’t.” Chris pleads.

“If what you’re saying is true, I wanna see it for myself.”

Zach doesn’t reply at first. The silence beats between their words. Zach bites his lip. It’s against every scrap of logic that exists within him, every frightened thread of instinctual fear tells him to just say. And yet, against all better judgment, Zach finds himself agreeing.

**::**

Zach takes Chris back to his apartment without much said between them, and they don’t speak much in the hours leading up to the evening. He had agreed to meet Karl back at the station in the late afternoon with the intention of going to the Bay just before the sunset.

It’s only as Zach prepares to leave, double checking his gun in the holster at his side, that Chris decides to speak.  

“You can’t go, Zach.” Chris says flatly from where he’s perched atop Zach’s couch. Charlie sits next to him, eyeing Zach with the same pleading eyes that Chris is. “It’s not safe…”

“I know,” Zach replies, shaking his head, “But we need to.”

Chris hoists himself up from off the couch, very suddenly standing in Zach’s space.

“You don’t need to. Please, Zach… I don’t want…” Chris stops himself short, lips tightening around his words as he looks away from Zach.

“You don’t want what?” Zach asks him softly, hand coming to rest on Chris’s bicep.

It’s intimate, and Zach knows that, but he can’t seem to bring himself to care, the restrictions of professionalism steadily overpowered by his desire to comfort this man, to reassure him, to protect him. Zach wishes he knew why. He wishes he could explain his feeling of connection to Chris, but he can’t, and maybe it isn’t worth explaining. Because at this moment, all his brain is telling him is that Chris matters, that he’s got eyes and a heart the ocean could steal and that Zach wants only to defend.

Maybe some things are better left unexplained.

“I don’t want anything to happen to you,” Chris tells him honestly, and Zach feels himself pause.

Zach exhales slowly, his other arm lifting, hand resting in the camber of Chris’s neck softly. He squeezes softly - a poor attempt at reassurance - and meets Chris’s gaze.

“It’ll be okay,” He whispers, and he has to wonder if he even believes that statement or not. But Zach supposes it doesn’t matter if he believes it, so long as Chris can. “It’ll be okay. We’re going in armed, with a squad. We’ll be careful.”

“At least let me come.”

Zach shakes his head firmly.

“Absolutely not. I need you to stay here… I can’t… I can’t put you in a position where I might not be able to protect you.”

Chris scoffs at that, the frustration in his voice thick and heady.

“You say to the guy who saved your ass last night.”

And Zach wants to reply, but he can’t, because he knows Chris is right. But he sighs and shakes his head anyway. Chris’s lips form into a tight line, but he nods anyway.

“When will you be back tonight?”

Zach smiles - it’s a little bit manic, and he knows that, because the nerves are inching through his skin at this point - and he chuckles breathily.

“I sure as hell don’t plan on being there long.”

Chris doesn’t laugh. Zach releases a breath, letting his hands slip from where they touch the other man, and he steps back towards the door.

“I have my phone.” He tells Chris, and he hopes that the waver in his voice isn’t as obvious as he knows it is.

Zach watches as Chris’s jaw clenches a little, muscles tensing, and he nods curtly.

“Be safe.” is all he says.

**::**

Zach and Karl drive to the coast together in silence, two squad cars close behind them. Zach can’t help but watch Karl as he drives. There’s a look on Karl’s face that tells Zach there’s more he wants to ask, more he wants to know, and that perhaps he just can’t seem to form the words to make the questions. Zach thinks that perhaps it’s for the best he doesn’t ask them at all. Zach wouldn’t know the answers, anyway.

The fading light of day seeps through the forest trees as they edge their way closer to the beach, and if Zach is honest, he isn’t sure that he’s ready to see this beach again. He doesn’t want to admit it, but he can feel his heart pounding in his chest. He closes his eyes, leaning his head against the passenger window, trying his best to block out the images of the ungodly, unearthly things he’d seen just the evening before…. of the things he hopes to god he doesn’t have to see again tonight.

They pull up to the beach as the last bits of the daylight begin to fade. Karl stops the car, but leaves the keys, and Zach has to commend him for the forethought.

Fall light always fades the fastest, Zach thinks to himself, and as he and Karl step out of the car, Zach can almost feel the darkness beginning to creep in on them. A squad car parks on either side of them, the officers exiting their vehicles and meandering to stand beside Karl and Zach as they look out across the expanse of the sand and water.

The light’s almost gone.

“Goddamn…” one of the officers standing next to Karl mumbles, “This place is even worse in the dark…”

Karl and Zach can only nod.

They wait together in silence until the last bits of light have seeped from view, replaced with only faded moonlight and grey clouds over the nighttime sky. And for a while the beach is silent, save for the regular, rhythmic crashing of the waves against the sand and rocks.

But Zach hears it first. It’s faint at first, but he couldn’t forget that sound if he tried. It’s a different sort of his, guttural and pained, and he feels his jaw clench and tremble at the first hints of it. He doesn’t want to hear it again.

If he could live the rest of his life without ever hearing that sound, he could die a peaceful, happy man.

And yet, there it was once again.

He waits. He doesn’t make a sound or dare to move to lead them down the beach until he knows that Karl has heard it.

It takes a moment, the sound growing steadily louder, until out of the corner of his eye, he sees Karl’s head jerk in his direction. Zach turns his head slowly, meeting Karl’s eyes as the noises persist, and he nods silently, if only to tell Karl that yes, that’s what they’re here for.

Zach doesn’t miss the moment of hesitation before Karl turns to the officers surrounded them.

“We’re going down there,” he says quietly. “Stay here. You hear any sign of distress, come down. ...Be ready.” He says the last part with a slow gesture towards his own gun, and the officers nod in understanding.

The two of them stride down the beach towards the water slowly and quietly, and after what Zach had witnessed yesterday, he doesn’t hesitate to pull his gun from his holster and have it at the ready. The further down the beach they go, the closer they get to the incoming tides, the louder the noises become. Mixed in with the crashes of the water, there are gurgles and gargles, the sounds of churning, heavy water as it’s choked through what once might have been called lungs.

Zach doesn’t even have to see it to remember the the way the horrific thing had looked.

In the darkness, there isn’t much to see, but Zach doesn’t miss the odd, unnatural grey-white glow that comes from the steadily lapping whitecaps of the sea. About 20 yards from the water’s edge, Karl holds out his hand, silently instructing for Zach to stop moving. Zach obeys and the two of them stand there in silence, listening.

Karl seems to scan the area, listening as best he can to attempt to pinpoint the source of the noise. It’s unmistakably coming from somewhere to their right, beyond the rocks and boulders that block their view. Silently, Karl gestures for them to approach.

With every step they take, Zach can feel his pulse racing, his heart pounding, louder and louder, the blood singing through his body with adrenaline and fear. The glottal sounds of what Zach is sure to be a creature like the one he’d seen just the night before persists, growing louder and more visceral with each inch they close in on it. Until finally, their view is unobscured by the jagged rocks.

Zach feels his stomach drop at the sight before them. There, amongst the rocks and sand and incoming tides lies a bloated, grotesque, water-logged form of a man. Its clothes are tattered, but Zach doesn’t miss the faded, wet colors and logos of the Coast Guard on the fabric. Hunched over it is a boney, wretched thing, gnarled and dripping, that same clear, ghostly grey of the one he’d see the night before.

He tries not to make a sound, watching as this thing growls, its long, gangly arms all over the body in front of it. It’s dark, and Zach’s eyes hardly want to adjust to see what it is before him, terror spreading through him at the sight of it, but he could swear that on its hands was skin slipped on like a too-big glove, claws protruding through the ends of what had once been human fingertips as they diced along the bloated flesh of what once had been a man.

He only knows Karl’s seen it when he hears his partner whimper unconsciously. Zach shoots a gaze back at Karl, and the creature does too. It snarls that unholy mouth at the both of them - that horrific mash of vicious fangs and squared off teeth from what might have been a person’s smile - and Zach can’t help the way he fumbles back a step. That fear, that panic, the sense of infinite helplessness in the presence of something far more alien, far more deadly than him, it pools in his stomach to the point where he feels ill.

The thing extends its spindly legs, full of torn up sinew of fleshy pink and whitish grey. Its full height towers over them, despite the distance between them, he feels dwarfed and overpowered. In its chest cavity hangs a flapping, useless lung that attempts to gasp at air with every wet wheeze. Beneath it, the shreds of what Zach hesitates to call a stomach, and Zach feels sick.

He stumbles back a few more steps, and Karl does the same, guns both hoisted up and aimed hard.

Zach isn’t expecting it and the loud _crack_ of Karl’s gun rocks him to his core. The bullet hits - it must have, because the abomination before him shrieks - but it doesn’t stop it. It’s spindly, lanky legs with backwards knees force its horrid body forward. Each step it makes is slow but large, its wretched arms leaning forward to dig into the sand to help drag its putrid form closer to them.

He and Karl step back with each advancement that he makes, and in the distance, Zach hears the sounds of the other officers as they shout to each other and make their way down to beach towards them. Zach is ready to run, to grab ahold of Karl’s arm and drag him with him, but Karl doesn’t seem to follow. He keeps his backward motion, but keeps his gun trained on the horrifc beast before him.

The sound of another shot from Karl’s gun rings out across the empty beach - and another, and another and another, each one met with the wet, thick sound of penetrated flesh and the sickening, ghoulish wail that erupts from the creature with each impact.

From behind them, Zach hears the sound of feet against the sand, the other officers almost to them, not that their manpower or weapons would do them any good. With he and Karl still striding away from the creature ahead of them, Zach dares a glance back to look for the squad, but all his eyes are met with is a blur of a flesh pink, dripping creature thudding its way up from from the surf towards them.

“Karl!” Zach tries to yell, but the thing reaches them before his voice can pass his teeth.

It lunges for Karl with speed Zach can’t even comprehend. His partner’s body smacks down against the sand with a smack and a loud, pained shout.

Zach doesn’t even think, gun already drawn, he shoots at the thing. It recoils but doesn’t move, its gangling arms and claws moving over Karl with voracious precision. There’s red, and that much Zach can tell but he doesn’t have time to think about it. He fires his weapon again, and again, the other officers suddenly at his side, firing with him, firing at the one still slowly dragging itself towards them.

With each hit the things wail and recoil a bit, until eventually, it rears off of Karl enough for Zach to dart forward and scoop him up. Something sharp slices down the length of his forearm, another one slashing across his bicep and neck, and a pained scream spills from his lips, but he doesn’t release his hold. He drags Karl up as best he can, and one of the other officers ceases fire, moving to hook his arm around Karl as well to help Zach drag him back towards the vehicles.

Back to the ocean, Karl groaning with each haggard step they take, the sounds of gunfire continue to rage behind them.

 _The car_ , Zach thinks, _we just have to make it to the car. He’ll be okay_.

Zach feels pain across his body, his arm is wet and he knows it’s from blood, and he feels fucking weak. He doesn’t want to think about how deep that might have gone, what veins and arteries it might have hit. They’ll be okay… They’ll be okay.

The blood pounds in his head, body tired, but he pushes on. The guns behind them sound muffled, the screeches dampened, but he pushes on.

His vision is getting a little blurry, but up ahead, a pair of bright lights suddenly emerge from past the line of trees. A car, pulling up next to where the squad cars are parked. Someone exits the vehicle, but they’re nothing but a silhouette in the lights. He hears the pounding of approaching footsteps, shaking through the sands, like the frantic pounding of his heart.

And then he hears it - the faint, muffled sound of barking, of vicious, protective barking. It’s fucking Charlie. She darts past him, straight to the water, straight towards the gunfire, and suddenly, Chris is in front of him. He shoos the other cop from Karl’s side and takes his spot, and the officer doesn’t hesitate to dart back down the beach, joining in on the gunfire.

“Come on!” Chris shouts forcefully, Karl’s arm draped over his shoulder, urging Zach onward as he attempts to support his partner while slowly losing his own strength. “Fuck, Zach, come on, stay with me! We’re almost there.”

They’re almost at the trees, and wherever Zach finds the strength to force his feet to keep on moving, he isn’t sure. He stumbles and staggers with each step, until he and Chris have reach Zach’s car. They ease Karl into the backseat before Chris turns his attention quickly to Zach, helping to lower him into the passenger seat.

He smells blood.

He tastes it.

He feels it on his skin, and he isn’t sure if it’s his, or Karls, or perhaps the putrid wetness of the abomination that had fought them.

Muffled in his ears are the sounds of cracks and bangs, screeches, and suddenly, Chris’s shrill whistle as he calls Charlie’s name. Zach lolls his head, watching as the other officers begin to cease fire, running their way back up the beach to their vehicles.

It happens so quickly, but Charlie suddenly bounds into the front seat, at Zach’s feet. It’s cramped, but he doesn’t care, whatever gets them out of there.

Chris is quick into the driver’s seat, fumbling to turn the key that’s still sitting in the ignition. He flings the car into gear, and Zach just barely registers the lights of the squad cars beginning to flash as the cars start and pull out after Chris.

“Your car…” Zach mumbles, voice thick and tired, thinking of the Porsche left abandoned on the sands, as if that should be his priority.

“Doesn’t matter,” Chris says curtly, “We gotta get to a hospital.”

Zach’s sure he’s right.

The lights of the cop cars drive beside them, then in front of them, clearing and leading their way, and Zach is very tired.

He glances down at his arm, resting limply in his lap. It’s so dark - the cut so long, so deep, so clean - and he feels ill as he watches blood seep across his skin.

Zach lolls his head back against the headrest, breath heaving and uneasy, and he blinks slowly.

“Zach!” Chris says loudly, gaining his attention once more, “Stay with me.” Chris cranes his head back to look in the backseat, “Karl?! Come on, guys, hang on.”

“Chris.” Zach says softly, eyes lingering shut for a little longer each time he blinks.

“Fuck! Stay with me, come on!”

 

 


	6. 06.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 06

When Zach wakes, everything seems very white, and he isn’t sure how he feels about that.

He lets his eyes adjust, quickly realizing that he’s lying in a hospital bed. He pushes himself up a bit on his arms, wincing as they sting with the pressure. With a cursory glance around the room, his eyes quickly land on Chris, curled up in a chair a few feet from his bed. Chris’s attention quickly turns to Zach and he lifts up to stand by Zach’s side.

He smiles sadly down at him, a hand coming to rest in his hair, and Zach would be lying if he said that the touch of Chris’s fingers were all the comfort he could want.

He wants to ask what happened, but he already knows. He remembers in awful, gruesome detail to the point where he wishes he could have simply forgotten it.

Zach breaks his gaze with Chris, eyes dancing over the bandages that line his arms and shoulder.

“You’re okay,” Chris reassures, even though Zach is already sure he is, “Had to patch up the radial artery in your wrist, and, and uh, stitch you up a bit, but nothing major.”

“Karl?” Zach asks softly. Chris smiles, fingers hesitantly moving to stroke through Zach’s hair.

“He’s fine. All stitched up too, doing okay.”

“Anyone else hurt?”

Chris shakes his head.

“No, thankfully...” He lets out a breathy chuckle, “But on the plus side, we got a hell of a lotta cops as witnesses for those fuckin’ things, so at least no one can call us crazy…”

It isn’t much consolation, but Zach still feels a little better.

**::**

Zach waits for a little while, a few doctors and nurses filtering in just to double check his injuries, to check for any signs of infection. Eventually, they give him clearance to discharge if he wants with a couple prescriptions for pain.

Chris had been kind of enough to bring a change of clothes from Zach’s home, and Zach dresses carefully, gentle as he pulls his clothes over his arms and neck, gentle to not disturb his bandages or stitches.

Once he’s ready, he meets Chris in the hall. He needs to talk with Karl before he leaves, and so he asks Chris to show him where his room is. As he stands outside of Karl’s room, he shoots a glance at his companion, who quickly offers to run to the cafeteria for something to drink, and Zach is thankful for the level of understanding that Chris seems to have of him: knowing without asking that Zach needs a few moments alone with Karl.

Zach watches as Chris heads down the hall before he knocks and slips quietly into Karl’s room.

The room is a little dark, the only light the natural light coming through the blinds. Karl’s eyes are on him the minute he enters, and Zach simply shoots him a small smile as he steps in quietly. He gestures silently to the chair by Karl’s bed and Karl nods his approval.

Zach settles into it heavily, wincing a bit as he feels the bandages pull a little on his skin with his movements.

He and Karl don’t speak for a moment, the two of them existing in the silence, and Zach can’t help but wonder what all Karl might have to say.

But he doesn’t say anything.

“I’m glad you’re okay.” Zach says softly into the quiet. And Karl smiles sadly.

“You too…” He replies, pausing a beat before he continues, “Zach, I… I’m sorry I didn’t uh, didn’t believe you.”

Zach just shrugs and forces out a chuckle.

“It’s okay. I wouldn’t have believed me either…”

Karl nods slowly, but doesn’t respond. And Zach simply lets the silence reign for another few moments before he clears his throat.

“I’m quitting…” Zach says softly into the stillness of the room. “I don’t want to do this anymore…”

Karl sighs slowly and hmms a quiet agreement.

“Me either.” He replies, his tone low and solemn.

“And… I think I’m gunna leave… Lithica is not something I think I can call home anymore.” Zach pauses, as if waiting to see if Karl might reply, but he doesn’t. “Maybe you should too…”

And Karl nods again.

“Yeah,” He murmurs, eyes lifting to gaze out the window at the midday light, and Zach knows it isn’t an actual response. He follows his friend’s stare, looking at the grey, cloud-covered sky through the blinds. And Zach swears, if he never has to see a grey sky again, he could die happy.  

“What are we doing about… about the Bay?” Zach inquires.

Karl shakes his head.

“Permanent closure. Absolutely no access allowed, public or otherwise. The PD is already working with the Coast Guard on how to restrict the waterways too.”

Zach leans back in his chair, and hums a soft ‘okay’, but says no more.

“Zach?” Karl starts, regaining his partner’s attention. “What were they?” He whispers - the fear, the anxiety right on the tip of his tongue.

Zach can only shake his head, because he just doesn’t have the answer.

He doesn’t know what they are.

All he knows is that he’ll bear their images, he’ll bear his scars for the rest of his days.

He and Karl don’t talk much more, sitting together in silence until Zach realizes it’s probably time for him to go. When he leaves, he hugs Karl close, and tells him he’ll be in touch. Karl tells him that he’ll do the same, and Zach hmms once again in response.

He heads to the door of Zach’s room slowly, opening it slightly to the hospital’s hallway. He’s just about to leave before he pauses, turning his head back to look back at Karl.

“...Get out of this place, Karl. ...Please.”

Chris is waiting for him in the hallway as the door to Karl’s room shuts behind him. Chris shoots him a sad smile, but says nothing, and Zach is grateful for the quiet if only because he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to say.

The two of them walk down the hallway with quiet, slow steps, heading towards the hospital exit. Once outside, they meander slowly along the sidewalk towards the parking lot. But after a moment, Zach simply stops, eyes lifting and focusing up on the cloudy sky. Chris only stops once he realizes that Zach hasn’t continued with him.

He pauses and turns his gaze and takes a few easy steps back to close the distance between them once more.

“Zach?”

Zach doesn’t look at him, but he speaks slowly.

“We’re probably going to be interviewed, you know? They’re going to want statements, since we’re witnesses, and especially since I was directly involved with the investigation. I’m willing to bet they’ll probably just call this… animal attacks, fatal accidents from a ‘hazardous’ location, or whatever. I don’t know if I’d know what else to call it anyway…” Zach trails off, eyes lowering to meet with Chris’s once more.

They’re still blue, and they’re still bright, but there’s a little different. A little darker, a little more weary, and Zach can’t say that he blames him.

Chris nods solemnly but says nothing.

“But I’m getting out of here, Chris.”

Chris furrows his brow curiously.

“I’m gunna leave. For good, I mean.”

“Oh.” is the uneasy response Zach gets, and he watches as Chris’s eyes suddenly cast downward. “Where will you go?” He asks.

“Dunno. But… I can’t stay here.”

Zach allows himself to take one step forward, hand reaching up to cup the curve of Chris’s jaw. He savors the way that jawline feels, the coarseness of his facial hair, the softness of his skin, and he urges Chris’s eyes back up to meet his.

“Come with me,” Zach asks.

“What?”

“Come with me when I leave.” He repeats, a bit more slowly.

Chris furrows his brow, but he doesn’t step away.

“I don’t know what it is,” Zach starts again, “But… I’m drawn to you, Chris. Hell, even after that first time I talked to you, I was drawn to you. I wanted to protect you. Maybe it’s selfish, but I want you safe… And maybe I don’t know you all that well right now. But I know I want to know you better.”

Chris pauses for a moment, but nods slowly in understanding.

“And maybe I’m wrong,” Zach continues, “but I think you want that too.”

Chris nods again, a little more firmly this time.

“...So come with me.”

There’s a pause, and for a moment, Zach is sure Chris will say no. Because honestly, why wouldn’t he? They hardly know each other, and yeah, maybe they’ve been through hell together, but that isn’t necessarily a foundation for anything. But regardless, he could be wrong, he’s been wrong before, but something tells him he would be wrong not to at least ask.

But Chris doesn’t say no. Instead, he nods, the smallest upward quirk at the corner of his mouth, before he says,

“Yeah, okay.”

Zach smiles.

“Okay.”

 

 


	7. 07.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 07

**Two Months Later**

The sun is shining, and Zach can hardly remember the last time this place actually had a clear sky. It figures the sun would be the one to see them off. He leans idly against the boot of Chris’s Porsche, listening as Chris loads his last few boxes and bags into the back seat and into the hood compartment. It isn’t exactly spacious up there, but Chris had sold off a lot of his things, as had Zach, the two of them preparing to say goodbye to the desolate coast of Lithica.

“Need any help?” He asks Chris easily.

“No thanks, this is the last of it.”

Zach nods and turns his gaze back out to the water.

He watches it as it glimmers and shines under the sunlight and he can’t help the way his stomach churns at the whitecaps that ripple along the surface of the waves. He thinks of the boat that sits still 30 feet down beneath the water, and of the bodies, and pieces that had been claimed.

He thinks of the bloated corpse and the creature that cut into it, stolen parts along its form like some macabre costume meant to mock and torment humanity.

Zach darts his eyes away, looking down the drive from Chris’s house that will lead them away from this place.

In all his days, he hopes never to remember this sea. He hopes never to remember the things he’d seen, the lives lost, the blood that had been shed. He wishes to never again remember those nameless, awful creatures he could never hope to understand.

It doesn’t take much longer, but Zach can feel his uneasiness as the chilly afternoon winds steadily into early evening, before Chris and Charlie appear ready to leave. As the day begins to seep into dusk, Zach slides into the passenger side, Charlie into the back, and Chris slips the car into gear and rolls it steadily along the path back to the road. With no sort of goodbye, they leave the house behind, not even having bothered to lock the doors. They leave the cottage as nothing but an empty shell, an offering to the Bay, abandoning it and driving past the large red sign that reads:

 _**Lithica Bay - Permanently Closed** _   
_**No Public Access** _   
_**Dangerous Conditions - Absolutely No Trespassers** _

**::**

_“But I shall never sleep calmly again when I think of the horrors that lurk ceaselessly behind life in time and in space, and of those unhallowed blasphemies from elder stars which dream beneath the sea.”  - HP Lovecraft_

**End**

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> HOLY GOD, THIS THING WAS SUCH A MONSTER. 
> 
> Wow, I bit off a tad more than I thought I could chew, but I chewed it up and got it done! I don't know for sure how happy I am with how it came out, so I'd be very, VERY grateful for your feedback. I hope you enjoyed it. 
> 
> Once again, I want to thank my wonderful artist: [nostalgia-in-starlight](http://nostalgia-in-starlight.tumblr.com) and the two wonderful pieces she did for this work. You're amazing, hun. Thank you. 
> 
> And if you guys are curious, you can find me on my tumblr: [commodorecliche](http://commodorecliche.tumblr.com). Please, I always need more Pinto in my life. 
> 
> Thank you all again, I hope you enjoyed!


End file.
